Strong Enough
by Punky Misfit
Summary: Brennan's love for Booth is put to the test after he is returned to her from a violent abduction a changed man, one who is up against a new foe. Himself. Warning: Angst heavy. Be advised.
1. Lost Without You

Brennan couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so impatient.

She stabbed repeatedly at the elevator call button. People who passed her in the busy hallway seemed to view her as though she were crazy. And maybe in a way she was. Still, nothing could move fast enough for her. Not her car. Not people. And certainly not this blasted elevator.

Between the two closed metal doors before her she could hear the hum of the elevator car returning to her from whatever floor it had been on. Again she pressed a rigid finger against the plastic lit button. "Come on," she whispered to herself.

To distract herself she glanced around to see how much had changed. It'd been six months since she'd been to her lab in the Jeffersonian Institute. Before then she'd spent numerous years there investigating murders with her partner, FBI Agent Seeley Booth. But a year ago, that had all changed.

It'd started off as a typical evening. It was customary tradition for Booth, Brennan, and their associates who worked at the lab to go out for a drink after the conclusion of a case. They'd just wrapped up a particularly gruesome murder of a college girl. There was much celebration in though they obviously hadn't been able to help the one young woman, they_ had _been able to save her friend who had been abducted with her.

By the end of the night Booth and Brennan had been the only ones left in the bar. They'd called it a night around two. He'd walked her out onto the street while she waited for a cab. "Are you all right?" She'd asked Booth. All night he'd seemed distracted. Unlike himself.

"Yeah," he answered absent mindedly. "I just keep thinking about that girl."

"The one you saved?"

"No. Her friend." He exhaled. "I wish I could have done something."

"Booth, we wouldn't have even had this case if she hadn't of been murdered."

He shook his head in disagreement. "I still think this murder is connected to those ones I told you about in Charlotte. I should have seen it sooner." His gaze dropped down onto the sidewalk.

Brennan was growing increasingly worried. "Booth?"

"I'm okay, Bones," he looked back up at her with a sheepish smile. "I'm just tired."

A cab pulled up to the curb for her. She opened the door. Before getting in she turned back to him. "Go home and get some sleep."

He agreed.

That had been the last time she'd ever seen him.

In the early morning hours she'd received a phone call from the FBI. Booth's neighbors had called the police to report a disturbance. Once the police arrived on the scene and learned who he was, they promptly called the feds for back up. Brennan, his partner, was contacted next. When she hurried to his apartment, she understood the phone chain.

Booth had been attacked. Violently. Furniture had been tipped over or smashed. Papers and knick knacks were scattered on the floor. Blood was spilled everywhere. Splatter patterns decorated the walls. In the air was a faint smell of burned flesh.

A thorough investigation was done. But there was little for them to go on. Whomever had abducted Booth had thought out their crime carefully. There were no signs of forced entry, suggesting Booth had known his attacker. Any and all blood or DNA in the apartment was his own. There was no sign of fingerprints. His neighbors had all been questioned since they'd been the ones to phone for help. But all any of them had heard was the sound of loud tussling. No one had seen anything.

The case went cold quickly. But that didn't stop Brennan and the rest of the "Squints" from conducting their own investigation. Unfortunately they didn't turn up more than anyone else did. Booth had just disappeared into the night.

Brennan kept working at the Jeffersonian for six months beyond that. She refused to work any murder cases without Booth. All of her time was spent searching for him. But as it became painstakingly obvious that her efforts were futile, she left the Jeffersonian all together. The passing time left a hurtful gaping hole in her chest. Whenever she thought of what happened to him she felt as though she couldn't breathe.

She returned to her life as an anthropologist. Across the globe she traveled digging up the remains and identifying those who had died centuries before. But it didn't matter where she went. In every country, every city, she still looked for him.

At last the elevator arrived. Brennan stepped inside. The doors closed before anyone else joined her. Down the car traveled to the basement. Slumping, she leaned back against the cool metal wall. Tears blurred her vision. Just being in the building without him was almost too much. Memories were every where. It didn't help matters knowing she was back because of him.

A badly rotting carcass had been fished out from the Potomac River. Initial reports placed the rate of decomposition at around the time Booth had disappeared. There were enough other similarities for the body to be brought to the lab to be gone over. Cam, Brennan's old boss, had called her to inform her of the developments. They both knew despite the personal relations Brennan would want to be the one to do the work herself.

The doors sprang open once again. She marched herself through the familiar hallways until she reached the spacious area she had called home for so many years. The once happy facility had a dark cloud over it. With the exception of noises from various machines it was nearly pin drop silent. Her peers were up on the lab's platform, gathered around a steel metal table.

Brennan made a point of dropping her bag of gear onto the floor. Three sets of eyes turned to look at her. Angela, her best friend, was red faced and had been crying. Hodgins, a fellow scientist, looked to be completely blown away, if his large blue eyes were any indication. Cam just looked over whelmed. She was the only one who attempted a smile. "Dr. Brennan."

Brennan slid her card through the security check point to let herself up onto the platform. "Did you request his x-rays?" She shot back at her. She didn't have time for pleasantries, nor did she feel like making any.

"Yes. I've uploaded them up onto the monitors."

"And dentals?"

"On the other monitor."

Angela and Hodgins both moved aside as she drew near. The sight of the body before her nearly knocked her down onto her knees. With a breath she steeled herself. She was excellent at disassociating. That wouldn't change now, no matter what the circumstances.

"Sweetie?" Angela asked meekly. "You sure you want to do this?"

"I'm fine," she snapped. "Just let me work." She roughly pulled a gown on over her clothes. Then she seized the table.

Her expert eyes swept over what had been left for her. Several bones were missing. Divers had excavated what they could from the rough waters. Just by glancing she could tell the height of the remains were close to Booth's, if not exactly. She picked up the skull to find a severe fracture just above the forehead. Other bones, she noticed, were still together, but had been snapped like twigs. Upon closer inspection she saw there was a history of breakage and mending.

In her back she could feel eyes boring into her. Whirling around, she told her colleagues in a clipped tone, "this would be a speedier process if you weren't watching me."

The three adults scattered off of the platform.

Before doing any closer inspection she decided to start with the dentals. It didn't take her long before she had an answer. The remains before her were not Booth. "It's not him," she murmured to herself, feeling both ecstatic and disappointed at the same time. She was thrilled he wasn't laying there before her. There was still a chance he was alive. But that meant he was still missing. She was no closer to any answers.

Brennan peeled her gloves off. "It's not him," she called. She left the platform promptly. No one said a word as she excused herself by them. All together she left the lab. Her rapid gait didn't stop until she was outside in the garden in the back of the institute. There she collapsed down onto a bench. Deep in her lungs she inhaled fresh air.

"Hey, are you okay?"

She should have known she wouldn't be alone for long. Onto one side of the bench Brennan scooted to make room for Angela. The woman took it as an invitation. She placed herself next to her.

"I don't know how I feel, Ange," she admitted softly.

Angela nodded. "It's good to see you. It's been so long."

She shook her head. "I just couldn't stay."

"I know."

For those six months she'd been on the go Brennan hadn't had anyone to confide in. Her walls lowered now, and she found herself revealing everything. "I see him everywhere I go, in everyone. I see him in my dreams. He's hurt. He'd bleeding. He's reaching out to me and no matter how far I stretch myself I can't reach him." A tear fell down her cheek as she looked down at her clenched hands in her lap. "I wake up just as he dies."

The nightmares had started two nights after he'd been kidnapped. Ever since they plagued her sleep on a daily basis.

Angela gasped.

"Do you think he's dead?" Brennan burst out.

Angela turned sheet white at the thought. "Do _you_?"

"I don't know," she spoke in a strained voice. Logically she knew there was little chance he could have survived his ordeal, especially considering it had been a year since anyone had seen him. However she just couldn't help but to allow herself to hope. "No matter what the outcome, I just want to find him."


	2. Nothing Left To Lose

"_Booth? It's me!"_

_Booth pushed himself up from his king sized hotel bed. He crossed the room and opened the door adjoining his room to Brennan's. "Of course its you, Bones. Who else would it be?" He mused._

_She didn't seem as happy. "Can I come in?"_

"_Of course." He moved aside. She trumped in straight to the edge of his bed and sat down. Booth cautiously followed her steps. "What's wrong?"_

_Exhaling, she looked up at him. "Why am I here?"_

"_What do you mean?"_

"_I'm not helping, Booth. She's not leaving behind any forensic evidence. These men keep turning up dead, murdered, because I can't help."_

"_That's not your fault. She's tricky."_

"_I'm useless."_

"_Hey," he said sternly. He sat down next to her and put an arm around her. "You are _never _useless, Bones. Never."_

_She looked at him with sorrow in her eyes._

"_We'll find her. With or without forensic evidence." He tilted her chin to look at him. "Don't give up on me, all right?"_

Booth's body jerked awake as a steel toed boot crashed into his ribs. He rolled onto his back. Expectantly he looked upwards at the woman standing over him, showing her no emotion. In an act of both rage and defiance she kicked him again. Again Booth gave no reaction.

She sighed. The woman went through the usual routine of producing a syringe from a bag strapped vertically around her chest. Dropping to her knees, she jabbed the needle in his arm and injected the liquid. "That'll hold you till tonight." She capped the needle and dropped it unceremoniously back into her bag. Her boots shook the floor as she stomped across it and back upstairs. The door slammed behind her.

_That'll hold you till tonight_. Those words sent a small sliver of worry down his spine. Tonight would entail more torture. It meant beating or burning. Every night was the same. That was one of the reasons why he didn't show much emotion. He didn't have the energy. Living wasn't about survival anymore. It was holding on for reasons he couldn't explain.

Booth was having trouble remembering a time before this prison he'd been placed in. He didn't understand why "she" was keeping him alive. Every day was a new round of abuse. Somehow she'd gotten herself inside of his mind. She mentally and physically injured him. As time passed he felt more and more of the effects. The isolation was warping what was left of his sanity. It'd been a year since he'd seen anyone else besides her.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position. The drugs sent a rush of blood to his brain. He was weak and dizzy most of the time due to the sedatives she pumped him full of on a daily basis. He supposed it was to keep him from being able to break free. It only added to his desperation.

He looked up the wall at two windows perched above him. They were small, with just enough room for a body to wiggle through. The frosted glass kept him from being able to see what was outside. Once he'd come close to getting out of one of them. "She" had walked in right in the middle of his attempt. She'd stunned him with a taser, then watched him helplessly fall to the floor. After that she'd rigged both the windows with wires attached to an electrical device. Anytime he touched the window frame he was hit with an electrical current.

It wasn't long after that that the hopelessness he felt took over. He began looking for ways to end his life. He'd attempted to cut himself with a butter knife. For obvious reasons that hadn't worked. Next he'd broken into the bathroom that took up one of the corners of the basement. He'd managed to break the lock on the cabinet underneath the sink. Before she could find him he'd drank what he could of some sort of cleaning product. It hadn't killed him, but it'd burned his throat and vocal cords. He spent the rest of the night and much of the next day vomiting. Since then he hadn't spoken a word. His throat still ached with every breath. Every swallow of food.

Sleeping was one of his only real saviors. He was able to return to the life he'd led. In his dreams he worked. He played with his son. Often he dreamed about Brennan. He dreamed of her kind touch. Of embracing her. Even of the few brief kisses they'd shared over the years. Where was she? Was she missing him as bad as he was missing her?

Again he looked to the window and entertained the thought of getting free. But in all reality he had no idea where he was. Who was to say what was outside was any better? During her civil moments "she'd" tried to convince him of that.

"_You're lucky I take such good care of you."_

Then again, she'd said this while pressing a hot lighter down against his skin. He absent mindedly rubbed at the scar on his arm. His stomach turned sour. Back down on the hard cement of the floor he laid. Sleeping was all he did anymore. There wasn't much else to do even if he felt like it. Boredom alone had near killed him during his first few months of captivity.

Booth wondered what new Hell "she" was dreaming up to put him through that night. He was curious as to where she went during the day. As if on cue he could hear a car door slam overhead. Whomever "she" was, she held down a full time job. No one must of suspected who she really was.

He had to figure she had something to do in the medical field. How else would she get such easy access to syringes and drugs? Most of the time he saw her she was in scrubs. Closing his eyes, he tried to think if he'd seen any emblem on her uniform any of the times she'd come into close contact with him. It was useless. All his mind could flash on was the things she'd done to him.

His heart pounded in terror. Could he really survive much longer like this? What could he do to get himself out? As already proven he had no means of taking his own life, and "she" obviously had no interest in doing so despite the evidence to the contrary. His colleagues most likely had stopped looking for him ages ago. Did anyone believe he was still alive? Did Bones? Had she given up on him?

Whether she had or not was irrelevant. He had no one to count on but himself. He climbed up on dead legs. The world dipped and swirled as he went to one of the windows. Without any hesitation he touched the window frame. A bright shock of pain shot through his fingers and down to his elbow. Next he touched the actual window itself. Nothing happened. The coolness of the glass soothed his finger tips.

His mind got working as he absorbed the pain. The sting hadn't been as bad as he'd expected. It seemed that just the window frame was electric. If he could break the window could he climb out fast enough before the jolt disabled him?

Just then his legs gave out on him. He fell into a heap on the floor. For the next twenty minutes he didn't move. His gaze stayed fixated on the window. By the time he got the strength to get up again his mind was made up. Frail or not, dangerous or not, he was making an attempt at escaping. If it was the death of him then so be it.

First he had to figure out how to get the window open. There were no levers or buttons. He pushed on the glass. In the wall he could hear the frame bang against a lock. Again he looked everything over closely. Either "she" had hindered the lock or he just wasn't finding it. No matter. There was one way he knew of to open it.

Taking a step back, he slammed his fist into the glass as hard as he could. Nothing happened, expect the dry skin on his knuckles popped open and began to bleed. Refusing to be deterred, he did it again and again until the glass gave way and smashed. He cleared the remaining fragments away. The sharp edges cut his already damaged hands even more. By the time he finished he was a mess of blood.

Now came the tricky part. Somehow he had to hoist himself up onto the window ledge. His once muscular arms had become damn near useless. Inspiration stuck him in an odd form. "She" had never given him anything but a few blankets to sleep on. Booth retrieved them now, folding them up until they made a makeshift stool. He stood on top of them and sank a few inches. But it was just enough. Readying himself, he put his hands on the window still and hopped up. Taking a breath, he pushed himself up and out the frame.

The constant electrical current running through his body nearly blinded him. He scraped his back along, gritting his teeth as he wiggled his way outside. In order to get out he had to climb up a small steel tunnel that was made to catch rain water. Pale light from a clouded sky washed over his face. He knew he was getting close.

At last he popped up over the soft green grass. Away from the house he crawled on his stomach until he couldn't anymore. He collapsed in a matter of yards. In amidst of gasping he looked at the area around him. He was in a residential suburban area. As it was the middle of the day no one was around. No one could help him. Then again, he had no idea who he could trust. This was "her" territory. He had to keep going. Somehow he pushed himself up onto his legs.

Aimlessly he wandered in a daze until he ended up in a wooded area. The sun was beginning to go down. The atmosphere cooled. Booth was exhausted. He trembled hard as he walked barefoot over sticks, stones, and dirt. He barely had the strength to put one foot in front of the other.

And then, he didn't. He fell down into the grass. Within moments he was out cold.


	3. Perfer Not To Be Rescued

"Dad? Dad! I think Digger's found something!"

"Well, son, if its already dead just leave it. A wild animal probably got to it."

"Dad Digger's… _licking _it."

"What the hell?" The father stalked ahead to where their dog had stopped. It was early in the morning and he'd taken his son for a walk. "Digger? Whatcha got, buddy?" He pulled the dog away to find a bloodied man laying face down among dead leaves. He was unconscious.

"Oh, man."

The dog whined, eager to continue what he thought (in his canine mind) was comforting.

"Son, get out the cell phone."

* * *

Booth was only semi conscious when his body was moved. He could hear voices all around him but couldn't make sense of any words. An oxygen mask was placed over his mouth and nose. Gratefully he breathed in lungfuls of air.

Again he drifted into unconsciousness. He woke again disoriented and in pain while being treated in the hospital. His mind being the way it was, he had no idea where he was or what was happening. With all of his might he fought off anyone who came near him. More and more his agitation grew until he felt something cool flow into a vein in his arm. Mere seconds passed before the fight was out of him.

His eyes were pried open. A pen light flickered back and forth in his line of vision. He unsuccessfully tried to pull away.

"Sir? Can you understand me?"

Booth continued to twist.

"What's your name?"

Sedatives were taking hold. Little by little he became limp.

"Sir?"

Booth fell into a sound sleep.

* * *

"Okay, just a little pressure and we're all done."

Booth winced as the blood pressure cuff squeezed tighter and tighter on his arm. After a moment the pressure released. His heart pounded in his arm muscle as the nurse unvelcroed the nylon band. "Your blood pressure's high, sugar."

It meant nothing to Booth. He laid back against his pillows. So far he'd been awake for a few hours. By listening to others he was beginning to learn of things. But for the most part, he was still greatly confused. He knew he'd been recovered by paramedics after a father and son had come across his mangled body. He knew during his most recent torture "she" had cracked two of his ribs, which explained the burning sensation he'd had in his chest upon waking. He had a concussion. While punching out the window back in the basement he'd managed to break his hand. And his blood work had come back testing high levels for Benzodiazepines. Sedatives, of course. His doctors worried what would happen when the withdrawal symptoms began.

Booth worried as well.

Lifting his wrist, he studied for the umpteenth time his medical ID bracelet. He was listed as a John Doe.

As if reading his thoughts, his nurse clucked her tongue. "You should tell us your name, hun. I'm sure someone's looking for a handsome devil like you."

He smiled a little at her. She was the first person he'd really interacted with. Something about her was comforting.

"Are you 'fraid? You a fugitive or something?"

_Sorta. _Booth started to answer her. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. Cold reality washed over him. When he'd drank the household cleaner he'd burned his throat. He'd damaged his voice. Obviously it'd prevented him from being able to speak. Since then he'd never attempted to. Until now.

That incident had been weeks ago. Shouldn't he have healed by now? Swallowing, he winced at the jab of pain. Would he ever be able to talk again?

She noticed him widening his eyes. "You in trouble?"

_More than you know. _He exhaled deeply. Maybe this was a blessing in disguise. He still had a strong suspicion that "she" had worked in the medical field. For all he knew "she" could have worked in that very hospital. Right then he decided he was safe as long as no one knew who he was.

The nurse sighed. She gathered up the supplies she'd used to check his stats. "Just think about it." She then ambled out the door.

_There's nothing to think about, _he thought at her retreating back. Onto his side he turned and closed his eyes. It'd been so long since he'd felt safe. So long since he'd been warm. Since he'd had a comfortable place to lay. To stretch out. When he had more stamina he planned to take a shower until his skin turned red. Though his injuries had been taken care of a good portion of him was still filthy. What was so normal for most sounded heavenly to him.

Out in the hall he could hear doctors talking as they wandered by his room. "Pamela, how did our John Doe check out?"

"Temperature's elevated. His blood pressure is sky high. Everything else was in the normal range."

"How about his identity? Anything?"

"No. It's like he's 'fraid to talk, or sumthin.'"

"Hmm. Well we've entered his description into the missing persons' database. If someone's reported him missing we'll find out."

Booth's eyes popped open. He felt his pulse begin to race. The hospital had lulled him into a sense of false security. Didn't anyone understand that he didn't want to be found? Did he need to find a way out from the sanctuary he'd been brought to? If it were so, he knew he had no strength to take off again. He was just going to have to trust God to keep him safe.

Then again, where had God been in the past year? Where had he been when Booth had given up on life?

Booth shook his head vigorously. Now was not the time to question his faith. Now was the time to rest. Whatever happened, he'd figure out a way to handle it.

His heart slowed down to a normal pace. He closed his eyes, and allowed himself to dream.

* * *

_Booth had his back up against the wall in the kitchen of his apartment. Blood ran from a wound on his head. Another bled profusely from his side. His chest heaved as he frantically tried to breathe enough air to satisfy his body. _

_Somewhere out of view his attacker flaunted a knife._

_Brennan watched on from the hallway. Before her was an invisible fence that she just couldn't seem to get by. "No!" She yelled. "Booth!"_

_A large figure dressed in black walked into the frame. Brennan couldn't see his face. But she could feel his rage. And Booth's fear. Her partner was paralyzed in his place. _

"_Booth!" She tried to get his attention. "Move! You have to move!"_

_The perpetrator moved with the stealth of a cat. Before her very eyes he closed in on his prey. Time seemed to slow down as she was forced to helplessly watch the knife sink into Booth's side. He made a noise of pain before sinking down onto the floor. Blood seeped out around him. His eye lids fluttered._

"_Booth! No! Get up!" She screamed at him. In trying to move forward into the kitchen she was deflected back. No. This wasn't right. She had to get to him. She had to help him. Tears flowed freely from her eyes. "No." She whimpered._

_The dark figure raised the knife again. He was ready to strike. And it made Brennan sick to realize he wouldn't stop until Booth was undoubtedly dead._

The shrill ringing of her cell phone brought Brennan to life just before her dream could. It took her a moment to remember where she was. After leaving the Jeffersonian she'd come back to her apartment. For a few days she'd decided to stay there until she could determine where it was she wanted to go next.

Her face felt stiff. Had she been crying? Slowly she sat up, only conscious to realize her phone was still going off. It was damn near four in the morning. Who would be calling her? "Brennan," she answered, not hiding her annoyance.

"Dr. Brennan, it's Cam. I'm sorry to bother you so early in the morning."

Brennan was still trying to get over her dream. "So why are you bothering me?"

"I just got a call from the police. A John Doe matching Booth's description was admitted into the hospital today."

She was awake now. "Do they know for sure it's him?"

"They're pretty positive. He was found unconscious in the woods only about an hour from here."

An hour. Brennan pressed her lips together. All this time Booth had been hidden right under their noses.

"He didn't have any identification on him, and they haven't gotten him to give his name."

That struck her as odd. Why wouldn't Booth just tell them who he was? "What hospital?"

There was a smile in Cam's voice. "I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

"Seeley Booth."

Booth stirred from his light sleep. He rolled onto his back, squinting groggily at the doctor standing at the foot of his bed.

"That's you, isn't it? You work for the FBI."

His words sunk into his psyche. He abruptly sat up. At the doctor he could only gape in shocked wonder.

"I don't know what you're hiding from," the man continued. "But you don't need to worry. You're well protected here. Someone's on the way for you."

Booth sank back down onto his mattress. _Protected? You have no idea what you've done. _


	4. Back To Me

Brennan ran through the hospital like her life depended on it. Her throat felt ready to close up. Booth was found. Alive! She'd nearly caused a car accident on her way over from excitement and anticipation. Because of that an hour journey hadn't taken her more than thirty minutes.

She'd checked in with the information desk, then ran from unit to unit as she was misdirected twice. On her third attempt she went straight to the nurses' station. "Is Seeley Booth on this unit?"

The nurse she asked eyed her suspiciously. "There's a man we think is him, but no positive ID has been made."

"I can do it."

Silence.

"I'm his partner!"

"Well, you still can't see him. His doctor isn't here and visiting hours don't begin until eight."

Brennan was irked. She glanced at the traditional ticking clock perched on the wall behind the nurse. It was just past five. She'd already waited a year for him. What was a few more hours? Back down the hall she walked until she found a chair. There she sat.

Minutes ticked by. Brennan paid close attention to the activity around her. Nurses were sporadic in their over night checks. She observed the nurse whom she'd spoken with duck into a room she was sure was Booth's. After fifteen minutes or so she emerged. Down the hall she disappeared out of sight. It was that moment Brennan took her chance.

Quietly she crept to the door, which had been left slightly ajar. Gently she pressed it open all the way and tip toed herself inside. Sure enough, it was Booth who had been the occupant of the room. He was sleeping, unaware of his visitor.

Brennan's heart grew. She felt like a balloon full of helium, ready to burst. What surprised her the most, however, was the amount of affection she found herself wanting to show him. More than anything she wanted to embrace him; to kiss him. This being quite usual for her, she couldn't explain it. Nor did she try to. She wouldn't act on it.

Shaking those thoughts away, she moved to his bedside. There was only slight light shining in through his window from outside lights illuminating the parking lot. And in that faint light she tried to take a good look at him.

His frail body was the most noticeable. He seemed lost underneath the thick blankets covering his frame. Next she noticed the cast over his hand and fingers. Tenderly she rubbed on his arm just past his wrist. Underneath his skin she could feel every muscle and vein. Her partner had faded to nothing but skin and bones. Tears pricked her eyes. Right after she found herself getting angry. Who had done this to him?

Loud footsteps drew near from the hall. The same nurse burst inside. Mutely she pointed a firm finger towards the door. Brennan's gaze switched from her to Booth. In a sign of affection she squeezed his arm where she'd been caressing it. Then she stepped out into the hall.

"I told you, visiting hours aren't until later!" The nurse shut the door.

"I know. I'm sorry."

She case an eye over her critically. "He mean something to you?"

Brennan remained vague. "Yes."

"I understand, but really, he's been through a lot. He needs his rest." Her voice had turned kind. "It's just a few more hours."

Back to her chair Brennan took refuge. She waited. For him, she'd wait forever.

* * *

Hours later she'd dozed off. She was woken abruptly by a man standing over her. Up at him she stared tiredly. Her body ached from being in one position for so long.

"You think can ID Seeley Booth?"

"I don't think I can. I know." She stood and stretched. "I'm Dr. Brennan. I'm his partner with the FBI."

The man nodded. "I'm Dr. Stanley. I've been providing his care."

"What are his injuries?"

Dr. Stanley went on to explain in great detail. "The biggest concern we have right now is the drugs. We've been keeping him on low doses of various medicines to help with the symptoms, but-"

"He'll still have to go through withdrawal." Brennan finished for him. Her heart ached.

"Yes. I'm afraid so. There's also the issue with his weight. He's on fluids because we can't get him interested in food."

Brennan looked past him to Booth's room. "He wouldn't tell you who he was?"

"We haven't been able to get a word out of him. He wouldn't let us near his mouth or throat during his inital exam. We've had numerous therapists and psychiatrists here. It's believed his condition is psychological. Maybe he'll speak once he sees a familiar face."

"May I see him?"

"You can go right on in."

She didn't need to be told twice. Brennan walked briskly back to his room. Eagerly she let herself inside. With pleasure she saw he was awake. Booth still laid almost flat in his bed. A television was on but he didn't seem all that enthused by the content.

Now in the daylight she could see him clearly. The effects from his forced (or currently not forced) anorexia were even more apparent. His eyes were sunken in. One eye had a strange dark ring around it, and the eye itself was dark in color. Much darker than Booth's natural eye color. His face was teeming with lacerations and bruises. Last she noticed the dozens of needle marks decorating his arm. She felt ill just looking at them.

"Booth." She went straight to his side.

He tore his gaze away from the television. It didn't change as he seemed to look straight through her.

"Booth?" She was confused. Why the reaction? "Do you remember me?"

He nodded.

Tears flooded her eyes. "Where have you been? What happened to you? Who did this to you?"

Her heart sank as she realized she wasn't getting any further than anyone else. Booth still wouldn't talk.

From her purse she retrieved a pad of paper and a pen. "I know your hand is broken, but can you write it?"

He took the pen from her and peered at it as though he didn't know what to do with it. Back at her he looked with his question in his eyes.

Brennan inhaled. He had absolutely no way to communicate with her. "Please?" She tried. "Please just talk to me?"

Booth continued to just stare. The truth was he could have written. He knew how to do everything he once had been able to. But he didn't want to. Not even with her. Part of it was the fact that he still just didn't feel safe. The rest of it was out of protection. And not just for himself. He didn't want to get writing because he'd then have to answer questions he didn't want to. He didn't know who had abducted him. It'd been a year since he'd had seen her in more than just darkness. By now, between that and the trauma he wouldn't have been able to give an accurate description.

Most importantly though, he didn't want Brennan knowing what he'd done. He didn't want her knowing he'd given up, and the problem with his voice was purely self inflicted. He knew how much that would affect her. So he decided to keep up his charade of slight amnesia until he was ready.

Brennan sighed sadly. She pocketed both. Again he touched his arm.

Booth winced. She could feel him hesitate. Seconds later he was relaxed once again. But Brennan had already noted his reaction. He'd been expecting pain. She knew it wasn't his or her fault. It was a reflex. But it saddened her further.

A short while later someone wheeled a noisy cart by his door. Booth near jumped out of his skin. He gasped for a few moments before calming down once again.

"You don't like it here." Brennan proclaimed.

_I hate it, _he thought to himself, looking back at her. _I don't know where "she" works, Bones. I'm not safe here._

"Wait here." She was up in an instant. She left Booth behind and went in search for his doctor. At the nurses' station she happened to catch him while he was writing in a chart. "I'd like to take Booth home with me."

"Pardon me?" Dr. Stanley was startled.

Brennan spoke louder. "I'd like to take Booth-"

"I heard you the first time, Dr. Brennan." Dr. Stanley directed his attention to her. "Do you have any idea what it is you're asking? He's on the verge of going into withdrawal. I doubt you're qualified to take care of him through that."

"Yes, I can. I respect your expertise, doctor. But I also know him better than any of you. I'll sign him out against medical advice if I have to."

"He's the only one who can do that."

"Then I suggest you draw up the papers. I can guarantee you he will sign."


	5. Going Back And Going Home

"Are you hungry? I could stop for something. I'm sure it's been a long time since you've had real food."

No acknowledgement.

"Or coffee? I'm sure some place is still open if you'd like some."

Silence. Not even a head turn.

"Booth?"

At last he turned to her. There was something in his eyes. Something she'd never seen all that often. Uncertainty.

"It's all right, Booth," she tried to assure him.

That didn't stop him from feeling whatever he was feeling. Back out the window he looked at the pouring rain. It was a soft shower. Nothing too special. But he seemed fixated on it.

They'd only left the hospital some fifteen minutes ago and already she was having trouble getting through to him. _Did I make the right decision? _She speculated. _Is he really better with me? I don't know anything about withdrawal. Will I be able to help him?_

It then hit her why he was so distracted. The day after he'd been abducted heavy thunderstorms had pounded the area. They'd washed away whatever bit of forensic evidence had been left behind outside. Brennan remembered leaning against her car, mentally cursing out the incompetent FBI agent before her promising they would do whatever they could to find Booth. "You have no evidence," she'd snapped back at the man. "If I can't find him then you most certainly won't be able to either."

Brennan wondered now where Booth had been during that time. Especially given his reaction. "Booth? Please, just… talk to me. Tell me what you're thinking about."

_All Booth could see around him was darkness. His body was folded up, his knees digging into his chest. Their was a musty smell in the air. He could hear the sound of an engine. The area he was confined to shook violently up and down. He rolled onto his back and banged at the metal area above his head._

_Was he in a car? Had someone stuffed him in a trunk?_

_Somewhere outside he heard a crack. The sound and vibration of thunder blew through the space. A pinging noise from either rain or hail showered down._

_Booth hit harder at the trunk door. His efforts only wasted his energy. It wasn't long before his muscles gave out. He fell back under into a stupor._

In response to her question Booth reclined his seat. He made a show of laying back and shutting his eyes. Brennan sighed sadly. Why was he being so stubborn? Just how bad had he been hurt? She continued to drive on in silence.

Booth opened an eye to peek at her. _I'm sorry, Bones._

All too soon they were outside her apartment. Booth followed Brennan in. Once inside he lingered with each step, as though he was trying to remember exactly where he was. Before he'd been abducted Booth had been to her place more than a dozen times. The realization that it all seemed new to him again now was another stab of panic for Brennan.

She moved into the kitchen. "Are you certain you don't want something to eat?" It was worrying her, his apathy towards food. His weight was already a problem. And doctors had already warned her that when the full effects of the withdrawal took hold that could be an issue for them. "I could make you something. I could make you macaroni and cheese." Booth loved the food in general. But he especially loved hers.

Booth wasn't listening. He'd moved through her apartment straight to the window to look outside. His paranoia hadn't lessened any. In fact, it had intensified. With every passing moment he knew she was still out there somewhere his anxiety grew. What if she was following him? What if Brennan's life was in danger? He'd die to protect her. But he didn't want to put her at risk in the first place.

"Booth?"

He was exhausted. And eating was too painful. Since she expected something out of him he walked back to the front door where he'd dropped a bag. Before he'd been discharged Brennan had gone back to his apartment and gathered a good amount of his things, including clothes. He rummaged around till he found a pair of pajama pants and a shirt. Then he mutely excused himself into her bathroom.

At long last he was able to take a long, hot shower. He scrubbed furiously at his skin, as though he could erase all evidence of "her." Of course, he couldn't. The many burns and lacerations on his body that were still healing stung with protest as the water poured over them. Booth felt like he was being stabbed with tiny hot needles.

Sometime later he emerged in the new clothes and with his hair still damp. He disregarded Brennan sitting at her kitchen table. He laid himself down on her couch. Just as he closed his eyes he felt her shadow over him.

"No. You're sleeping in my bed."

His eyes grew large.

"Without me." She quickly clarified. "You need real sleep. In a real bed."

_I slept on a cement floor for a year. I don't really even need this couch. _He made no effort to get up.

_How am I ever going to help him if he won't let me? _Brennan was exasperated. She was about to say something when a loud crack of thunder shook the apartment.

_Booth came to for a second time with a splitting headache. He opened his eyes slowly, as if he did it any faster he'd exacerbate the pain. In his mouth he could taste blood. There was a stinging wound on the back of his neck. Touching the skin, he felt two small burn marks. The rest of his body felt like it'd been through the ringer._

_Lightning flashed. Thunder rumbled, its sound causing the floor and windows to tremble. At the same time something sharp broke the skin in between two of Booth's ribs. The force tossed him back against a cool concrete wall. Then it retreated._

"_Who's there?" He choked out._

"_Oh, agent Booth," a woman laughed. "Welcome to the first day of the end of your life."_

Booth was gasping so hard Brennan worried he was going to hyperventilate. His eyes were squeezed shut. His shoulders heaved as he breathed faster and faster. She noticed his hands were balled into fists. But what really bothered her was the expression of pain on his face.

Brennan knelt down besides him. "It's okay." Comfortingly she laid a hand on his chest. Though her touch was light she could still feel his pounding heart. "I'm here. You're safe."

Just as in the hospital he was reluctant to allow her touch. His whole being paused. Brennan immediately withdrew. It killed her not being able to physically provide him comfort. She wasn't good at verbal things. Just because she was a writer in her spare time didn't mean she had the right things to say. She rarely did. Booth was used to it. Or at least he used to be. No matter what though she always had the ability to soothe him through her touch. She didn't know how to help the broken man in front of her.

Moments passed before the attack died down. Booth slumped back against the arm of the couch. Deeply he exhaled, his whole body sagging with the effort. When his eyes met hers she could see the raw emotion behind them. The sadness. The vulnerability.

_I'm sorry, Bones. I really am. Maybe I shouldn't be here. _He turned his gaze to her front door.

She misread him. "No one's out there. I promise."

_She's out there. Somewhere. _He sunk down a few inches. _And she'll find me._

"No one but me knows you're here," she continued trying to console him.

Booth wasn't listening. Exhaustion hit him like a heavy ton of bricks. He laid his head back. Instantly he was sound asleep.

Brennan watched him doze off. She pulled a folded up blanket off the end of the couch and draped it over him. She wished she'd been able to get her way. Booth was tall, and her couch was rather… short. She was sure he would have been more comfortable in her bed.

It wasn't as though she could force him. For now she could only hold on and hope in time that he'd let her guide him in the right direction. A long fight was ahead of them. And it worried her to realize that the real withdrawal hadn't begun yet.

Just as she was turning to head back into the kitchen her eyes swept over him and took notice of something peculiar. She leaned in closer for a better look.

A jagged line traced its way where his neck met the right side of his collar bone. It was scarred, and still an angry red hue. Upon closer inspection she could see that at one time it had been a severe wound. Most likely it'd been infected.

_Booth was helpless. He was laying on the floor of his apartment, recovering from a violent electric shock that had collapsed him straight down onto the floor. He was only barely maintaining consciousness. He looked at the figure standing above him with slit eyes._

_The figure dropped down to its knees. It pressed a knife hard against Booth's neck. Without a single sign of remorse they pulled the weapon through his skin._

Brennan shook the thought away. One thing was for sure. She had to get Booth talking. Each day of silence was another day his attacker was out wandering in the world. As far as Brennan was concerned, she would be sure that they would get what was coming to them.


	6. Seeking Answers

"Mary?"

"What is it?"

"We had a patient here… Seeley Booth?"

"Oh. Yeah. He came in while you were off."

"According to the patient list he was checked out?"

"Yeah. Some woman took him home."

"…What else do you know?"

"Nothing, really. That's all there is to it. Why are you so interested?"

"Oh. Uh. I went to high school with someone by that name. I was just thinking maybe it was the same guy."

"Weird."

"…yeah…"

* * *

Brennan woke with a start the following morning. Closely she listened before leaving the comfort of her bed. The apartment was silent. There was no sound of any type of movement. She remained in bed a moment longer before getting up. All night she'd slept lightly with her door open, just in case Booth needed her. Either he had, and she accidentally slept through it, or he'd been able to sleep the entire night. She dragged herself out of bed to go see for herself.

Booth was still sound asleep, his body twisted on her couch. During the night he'd flipped onto his side from his back. She was pleased to see no sign of anguish on his face. His life hadn't crossed over into his dreams. Yet. She had to imagine he was too tired to do much dreaming. Who knew when he'd last had a good night's rest. It seemed obvious to her he hadn't had any in the hospital.

She prepared for the day without disturbing him. After breakfast and a shower she readied herself and then left the apartment. She didn't intend to be gone long. She was sure he'd be fine for a few hours without her.

Before leaving she dove into a bag she'd brought home with his things. Inside were the clothes he'd been brought into the emergency room in. Booth didn't know she had them, which was just as well. She wanted to make things easier for him from here on out. But she also needed answers. Answers he was unable or unwilling to give her. His silence still baffled her. If he didn't want to talk to the rest of the world, fine. But he told her everything. Secretly she was a bit hurt at the dismissal.

Then again, he had trusted her to take care of him when he wasn't too fond of people in general at the moment. Maybe that was his compromise.

Brennan drove straight to the Jeffersonian. She walked briskly into the lab once again, this time with great purpose. She nodded silent hellos to anyone who acknowledged her. Through the lab she traveled until she reached the work station Hodgins based himself at. The man was there looking into a microscope when she stopped next to him. She waited for him to finish.

"Dr. Brennan," he greeted when pulling away. "How are you?"

"Concerned."

Hodgins nodded. "How's Booth?"

She disregarded that question. "I need you to analyze something for me."

"Sure. What is it?"

She reached into the knapsack she'd brought with her. She retrieved his shirt, followed by the pair of jeans he'd had on. Booth's jeans were almost black from dirt. Obviously he'd been made to live in the same clothes he'd been taken in for a year. His shirt wasn't quite so bad, but the amount of dried blood on it was nauseating. Grass stains from his escape mingled in with the rest of the grime.

Hodgins narrowed his eyes. "Dr. Brennan?"

"These are Booth's," she explained, taking a breath. "He was recovered in these. If it's possible I need to know where he was. The dirt, the grass, anything you can tell me about where he was being held captive. I know," she pulled a map from her pocket and unfolded it on the desk. "He was found in these woods." She jabbed an area with her index finger.

Hodgins looked it over. "Okay. That gives me an idea."

"I need answers," she stated as she pulled back. "The person who did this to him is still out there."

"Got it." He cast her a funny look. "He hasn't given you any?"

She stared down at the floor. "He hasn't spoken to anyone since he's been found. Including me."

"You think Parker could get him to talk?"

Brennan shook her head no. "I've been in touch with Rebecca. We've both decided he shouldn't see his father like this."

He read her emotion. "We'll catch the guy who did this."

From the lab Brennan took herself straight to an electronics store. It'd been years since she'd had a television. She never saw the need for one. If she wasn't at work or traveling, then she was reading. Occasionally she listened to music. Television had just never been a necessity for her. Since it was obvious Booth would be staying with her for a while she decided it was high time for a new one. Hopefully it would be a good distraction for him.

When she got home some odd hours later Booth was gone from the couch. She looked for him as she lugged the large television box inside. He was back at the window looking over the parking lot. He didn't seem to notice her entrance. She saw his hand was resting on his hip, as if ready to reach for a weapon that wasn't there. "Booth?"

She felt disappointed to find him eyeing her warily. Or maybe he was eyeing the box? "I have something for you."

It was the first spark of interest she'd seen in him. He joined her, peering at the box and then back at her.

"I thought you might like a television. Something to watch. It's something called high definition?" She studied him. "The sales clerk assured me it was the best." Then again he may have been trying to hit on her. "It needs to be mounted. I don't know how-"

Booth cut her off with a raised hand. He smiled a little. Delicately he picked up the box and carried it across the room.

For the next hour he busied himself with preparations, and making sure everything was perfect. Anything he needed, he gestured at Brennan to get him. She let him work. It was the first time she could see that he was thinking about something else besides his problems. And he appeared better for it.

Once he was finished they sat on the couch together to watch. For the rest of the afternoon and early evening they immersed themselves in program after program. Brennan was happy her idea had worked. Booth wasn't thinking about himself at all. His eyes were brighter. Overall his mood had improved.

Until just after dinner. They'd found a movie on a premium channel that neither one of them had seen. It was a romance, and a silly one at that. Neither one of them were too interested. But neither felt like turning it off, either.

At least, not until a particular scene. In it the lead male character was attempting to convince the female lead to accompany him to bed. The man was persistent; forcing himself upon her in a way that was supposed to come across as sexy. Brennan snickered. Sexy? It was just lame. She half smiled at Booth. Quickly that smile vanished.

Booth looked bothered. No. Something beyond bothered. Uncomfortable? He'd unconsciously pushed himself as far back on the couch as he could. The expression on his face grew to be indescribable.

"Booth?" She had a sick feeling his reaction had something to do with his abduction. "We can turn this off."

He wasn't listening. After a few more minutes he got up and went into her bedroom. Brennan chose not to follow him. Better he have some alone time. It made her wonder yet again what all he'd been through. More than anything it again made her wish he'd confide in her.

Neither of them knew this was to be the beginning of a very long night.


	7. The Night's Long When Everything's Wrong

"This is the last night you'll spend alone

Look me in the eyes so I know you know

I'm everything you need me to be"

"The Last Night" - Skillet

* * *

"_You just don't learn, do you?"_

_Booth winced hard as a blunt object landed a fierce blow to his chest. Whatever air he had gotten in his lungs after the last assault hissed back out in a huff. He rolled onto his stomach to attempt to protect himself._

"_Don't you remember what happened the last time you tried to escape?"_

_She'd used his own hand cuffs to restrain him for two days. By the time she finally set him free his appendages were useless. He hadn't had the strength to even get himself up off the ground._

_He groaned as another strike landed square in his back._

"_I guess I'll just have to up your dose. Maybe if you're paralyzed for a few days you'll learn to submit."_

_In the dark he could sense her presence, but not see her. "Who are you?" He croaked out. How was it she could see him, but he couldn't find her?_

_A strong force pushed him onto his back. Instantly he felt a knife against the skin on his throat. "Dead men don't ask questions." Her voice was a frightening growl._

"_You won't kill me. You need me." He spit. It was just a guess, but it had to be true. Why else wouldn't she have just taken his life already?_

"_Hmm." He heard her give something of a laugh. Then he felt the knife slice the edge of his skin in between his collar bone and neck. Blood pooled out within seconds. "I wouldn't be so sure of that, Agent Booth." She pulled his shirt back and drew the tip of the knife down his chest to his stomach. It was a faint pressure, but enough to leave behind a stinging trail of blood. "I wouldn't test me." _

_Booth could sense her lift the knife above her head. He tensed and turned his head away when she swung downward. He expected to be dying, to be crying out once the blade hit his chest. Instead he heard it stab through the blanket next to his body._

Booth woke nearly tumbling off the couch. If he had a voice he was sure he would have been yelling out. Yelling for help. Not that it had ever done him any good. He sat up and put his head in his trembling hands. He gasped erratically. Using all his concentration he tried to focus on his breathing. It did no good. He just became worked up all the more.

At last he gave up. On jelly legs he stood and turned a light on. All over he was shaking badly. But it hadn't been because of the nightmare. The trembling had started after he'd left Brennan behind during the movie. It'd only gotten worse as time went on.

Back and forth he now paced her living room. His thoughts were flying at lightning pace. Bit by bit he was losing his mind, and he knew it. He went to the window, looking out yet again. The pitch black night was suddenly a danger zone. She was there! Leaning against a car, smoking a cigarette. Or was she over by that tree? Was that her, crossing the parking lot? They all were her!

He reeled back as her face (or what he imagined to be her face) abruptly appeared in the window. Uselessly he tried to cry out. While rushing backwards he knocked over a stand. A vase crashed to the floor, breaking into pieces. The noise triggered more panic in Booth. She was coming after him. This time she was going to make sure he was dead.

No. No. This wasn't right. He needed something. An outlet. Something to take his mind off of her. Off of _it. _Off of everything.

_Booth had his hands and legs bound. He grinded his teeth into his bottom lip as she pushed a heated piece of metal down harder and harder against his hip. "Don't you dare try to resist me."_

Booth found himself falling down into a chair at Brennan's desk. Before going to bed for the night she'd left out a journal with a pen. He had seen her jotting her thoughts down. Most likely notes for the next novel she was planning. He hated to soil her book, but the idea of writing calmed him. Picking up the pen, his hand flew across the pages as the words formed in his mind.

_I don't know why she did it. I don't know why she kept me alive. But I wish she hadn't. She's going to find me. She's going to hunt me down and kill me. There's no escape. There's no way of getting away from her. I'm trapped in this life I don't want._

He threw the pen down. Suicide? No. Never. But the idea was seducing. She'd never be able to get him then. No one would. He wouldn't be tortured or broken anymore. He'd never have to face a look of pity again. There'd be nothing but peace.

Angrily he hated himself for thinking such thoughts. How could he? How could he just give up on those who loved him? Who hadn't let go of him when it seemed unlikely he could have still been alive?

But the thought did trigger a memory. Pills! Sedatives! The doctors had given Brennan a few prescriptions before they'd left the hospital to help ease the withdrawal symptoms. The pair had thought they'd done it without Booth's knowledge. Neither of them seemed to trust his mental state, which naturally made sense to him now. But if he could find even one of those miraculous pills then he'd be able to calm down. He knew it.

All around the apartment he began searching. In the bathroom he trashed the medicine cabinet to turn up nothing. Had she hidden them from him? Next he tried the kitchen, checking through all the cabinets and drawers. Nothing.

It occurred to him that she may have never taken them out of her purse. That she'd left sitting on the kitchen table. On a hope he began rummaging through it. _Please, please…_

Meanwhile, Brennan had woken from all the noise. She laid in bed with her eyes open, feeling, no. She didn't believe in feelings. _Knowing _something was amiss. Hours ago she'd left Booth sleeping contentedly on the couch. Was the noise from him? Her heart seized up. Or someone else?

She threw her blankets aside. Running from the bedroom, she went straight into the kitchen where she found Booth. He didn't seem to notice her. One by one he was removing things from her purse at a frenzied rate. "Booth?"

He ignored her. Or was so focused that he didn't hear her.

Brennan frowned worriedly. She didn't like what she was seeing. He was gasping uneven breaths. Violently he shivered. Sweat soaked his forehead and body. His eyes were wild. That alone frightened her. She'd never seen him in such a state. "Booth?" Why was he going through her purse?

She stepped over besides him. "Booth." Gently she put her hand on his arm.

Finally he noticed her.

"What's wrong?" Suddenly, it hit her. Withdrawal. The symptoms had started.

Oh no. Why hadn't she kept on top of it? _Because I didn't expect them to hit him so hard so soon._

Booth didn't know how to tell her what he needed. _Pills, Bones. Please. Help me. _A powerful pain tore his body in half. He bent at the waist, wrapping his arms around himself.

Brennan left him briefly. She came back with an amber colored bottle. With a glass of water she tapped out a few tablets into his hand.

Booth eyed them. It dawned on him he couldn't even swallow food. How was he going to get these hard little objects down his throat?

"Booth, you'll feel better."

_That's not the problem. _It was going to be tough. But he had no other choices. He swallowed both with a swig of water. They scraped like a blade the whole way down. The pain brought tears to his eyes. Again he looked at Brennan. This time "she" was standing right besides her. Booth startled. A brand new panic attack started.

Brennan didn't know what else to do for him. She wanted to cry, seeing what he was going through. She'd never imagined how tough this would be on her. All she wanted to do was take his pain away. To save him from himself. Impulsively she embraced him.

For the first time he didn't pause. He didn't shy away from her. Instead he nearly collapsed into her arms. His eyes were hazy as they stared up into hers. Underneath her hands she could feel him tense again. This time, she knew, it had nothing to do with her. She needed to get him to relax. She was losing him.

Carefully she guided him across the apartment back into her bedroom. Booth gave no protest as she laid him down in her bed. Around the other side she crawled in next to him.

Booth continued panting. His eyes stayed fixated on the ceiling. Once in a while he shifted himself on top of the mattress from discomfort. Brennan felt helpless doing nothing but watching him. And so tenderly, cautiously, she put a hand on him. Just as before he didn't rebuff her. She took it as a sign.

Keeping her touch feather light, she ran her hands over his sore, taut muscles. It had to have been some time since he'd any sort of touch out of kindness. His eyes half closed as she massaged him. The panic attack eased in its severity. In fact, she was pleased to find he was falling asleep.

"It'll be okay," she whispered her promise to him. "This is just the withdrawal. It's not you. It's not your fault. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere." She uncharacteristically babbled on. "I never stopped looking for you, Booth. I won't leave you now."

He drifted off into a deep sleep. And sometime later, she did, too.

* * *

Near morning Brennan woke to Booth thrashing around besides her. Tiredly she sat up and turned her bed side lamp on. "Booth?"

He couldn't hear her. He was too far lost in his silent horror. Back and forth he moved. Onto his stomach he rolled, arching before dropping back down to the mattress. He sucked in air between his teeth. His shoulders shook as he breathed rapidly. Sweat formed on his forehead. Another attack.

"Booth?" She tried again. She was fearful now to touch him. There was no saying how he'd react to her in amidst of his nightmare.

All over he braced himself. He opened his mouth, ready to let out what Brennan was sure to be a blood curdling scream. She could feel his breath. But nothing happened. After a few seconds he let out an awful, labored, slight squeaking sound. And that was when she finally understood.

All this time she had assumed Booth hadn't wanted to talk due to some psychological issue she didn't understand. Now, she realized, the truth was he couldn't have spoken if he'd wanted to. His voice was gone.


	8. The Sound Of Desperation

Brennan was on the phone with a specialist before Booth had woken in the morning. She made an appointment without thinking twice about it. After she finished she placed her phone down on the kitchen counter. There she stared at it. What had been done to Booth to make him lose his voice? Did this mean he'd never speak again? She couldn't imagine never talking with him, never hearing his voice again.

She couldn't remember seeing any signs of trauma on his throat. Compared to the other evident abuse she was sure she would if there were any. His abductor had not been shy about leaving lasting marks. Once again a stab of rage stung her. If Booth's voice wasn't gone, and there was a way to help him, then it needed to be done. He needed to get talking. She recalled how fearful he'd been before he'd drifted off. How helpless. It wasn't the Booth she was used to seeing. At one time he'd been one of the strongest people she'd known. She was determined to help him find that man once again.

She was still standing in the kitchen when Booth wandered in, blurry eyed. Her eyes were drawn like a magnet to his neck. Just as she thought the skin there was one of the few untouched places. The only injury she could make out was the one by his collarbone. After she tore her examining eyes away she gave him a few pills and water. Again he showed reluctance in taking it. Now she understood why.

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"We're going to see an ENT doctor at noon."

Booth clearly was puzzled.

"A specialist. I know you can't talk, Booth. You're physically unable."

His expression cycled between anger and panic. Narrow eyed, he shook his head at her. _No. I can't believe you did this. I can't believe you figured it out. _

"Booth."

_I'm not going. You can't know the truth. _He strode away from the kitchen. _No one can ever know. I can't take this. Why didn't she just kill me? Why don't I- _He stopped and took a breath. _No. You don't mean that. It's the drugs. The withdrawal. Damn it. _He took himself to her window. _Why does it have to be like this?_

Brennan followed him. For a mere second she was ready to back down. If it really bothered him that much, then fine, they wouldn't go. But at the last moment she changed her mind. "You're going," she said, firmly. "You need help. If this doctor has some ideas then we're going to try it. You can't keep using this as an excuse not to go over what happened to you."

His frame tightened. He turned his back on her.

Brennan continued. "The police will never be able to catch him if you don't cooperate."

_Her. And I can't tell anyone about any of it because I don't know! I don't even know if I could find my way back._

Sensing she wasn't going to get any further, Brennan backed off.

Booth resisted her every step of the way. She did everything but bend his arm to get him to leave with her for the appointment. Then she had trouble getting him out of the car once they arrived. He was mad, but it seemed like his anger stemmed from another emotion. Fear. But that made no sense to her. What was there to be afraid of?

During the exam he was clearly uncomfortable. At times he didn't like what was being done, and he let them know it. More than once he pushed the doctor's hand away. His eyes darkened considerably.

Test after test was performed. Hours passed by. Booth found himself getting restless. The pills were wearing off, and he was craving more. Much more. Enough to send him into a catatonic state. He inhaled, exhaling slowly. Over and over again he had to remind himself that his mind wasn't his. It was being influenced. But what if it wasn't? He tilted his head to look at Brennan.

She caught his eyes and smiled back at him. It only made him all the more sad. _How can I do this to her? What will happen to her when she finds out what I did? _Yet again he found himself wishing for death. He laid down and shut his eyes.

Brennan tip toed out, seeking a soda, when his doctor stopped her in the hall. "This is actually a good place to talk. Sometimes with survivors talking about things that were done can be a trigger."

"He doesn't need that."

"No." The doctor's gaze turned sympathetic. "All signs, all tests point to a burn in his throat."

Brennan gasped, feeling herself nearly bowled over. "How?"

"It appears to be a chemical burn. Some sort of corrosive."

"…Like he was forced to drink something?"

"Precisely."

Down into a nearby chair she sank. "What can we do for him?"

"The good news is his vocal chords are in tact. We can treat this. I'm going to send you home with some prescriptions, as well as a coated drink that should soothe the pain. It doesn't taste the greatest, but it should help. Within a few days you should encourage him to talk, to strengthen his voice."

Brennan nodded. Numbly she thanked the doctor. He left with a promise to return with all she would need for his treatment. Somehow Brennan floated her way back into Booth's room. The drink was forgotten in her haze of shock. With each step she became more and more upset. Tears blurred her vision. How could someone be so cruel? Especially to him?

In his room he was still sleeping on the exam table. Periodically his body trembled. She needed to get him home and give him another dose. Before she woke him, however, she crept to his side. Up close she could see the faintest marks of healed blisters on his lips. He'd most definitely been forced to drink something. There was a sobbing sound, and Brennan didn't realize it was her until it was out.

Booth woke instantly. He blinked up at her. _There's no turning back now._

"He made you… drink?" She choked out.

_She thinks I was forced to do this. I should lie. I should go with it. She doesn't need to know the truth. _Looking up in her eyes though made him think twice. He'd just have to stall this off for as long as he could. And so he made no indication either way.

His stoic composure bothered her more. "We can go home."

With treatment in hand Brennan drove them home in silence. Inside the apartment she went straight into her bedroom to be alone. Booth sat down in front of the window to keep watch. Although as his depression worsened his paranoia decreased. So what if "she" caught him? Did it really matter anymore?

Bit by bit he was beginning to lose control.


	9. Justice

She tore into the house, letting the back door slam behind her. Silently she fumed as she angrily walked from room to room. He was there. She would have had him if she hadn't wasted so much precious time looking for him. Who knew he'd actually survive? Still, she should have known better. Mercy was the only hospital in the city. If he'd been rescued, which obviously he had, then that's where he would have been taken.

"Stupid!" She berated herself out loud.

In her office she booted up her computer. While waiting for it she took herself back into the kitchen where she removed her jacket and shoes. From the fridge she retrieved a single serving can of tomato juice. Can in hand she went back to check on the computer.

It was still working on loading. Sighing, she sat down into her desk chair. She really needed to think about upgrading. The desk top was older than dirt. But it connected to the internet, which was just what she needed.

Maybe this time when she abducted him she'd demand ransom. No doubt her secret was probably out. He'd probably confessed everything. The only reason she was still free was because he knew nothing about her. No name. No address. Nothing. Her lips curved into a smile. _Don't worry, Jessie. I'll get him back. And then he'll get what's coming to him._

Yeah, perhaps this time she'd get money in exchange for his life. Only she'd kill him before anyone knew the wiser.

The thought excited her. There wasn't much else to do with him. She'd gotten what she wanted. He'd taken everything from her, and she'd paid him back in ten fold. He'd seen and tasted what incarceration felt like. She'd broken him down into a shell.

There was no ruling out that she'd have fun with him one last time before his execution. There was an evening in which she'd gone to him in the middle of the night. She'd restrained him before silencing him with her mouth. Back then he had his last bout of desperation before giving up entirely. He'd kissed her back, willing to do anything to free himself. She shivered with pleasure at the memory.

Not too much time passed after that before he'd completely submitted. Gave up. It'd made getting her way that much easier.

The computer beeped to life. She connected to the internet. If she'd known how she would have hacked straight into the FBI database. _I wish you'd showed me, Robby. I'd have such an easier time getting justice. _Well, there were laymen's ways of getting things done. In an internet search box she typed his name.

Results turned back little. More than one website offered his address for a price. Those sites were bull and she knew it. Page after page she scrolled until she landed across an on line news article. Encouraged, she clicked on it.

A picture of Booth sitting with a woman accompanied the article. Quickly she scanned over the text until her eyes landed on a single sentence. His partner, forensic anthropologist Dr. Temperance Brennan. Bingo.

During his stay with her he'd had a week in which he'd come down very ill. Working in a hospital, well, it sometimes happened that she brought her germs home. Booth had a fever that had sky rocketed. Aspirin hadn't touched it. During the worst of it he'd groaned over and over again for "Bones." He'd mumbled then, as though he were having a conversation with someone. The name "Brennan" was clearly said.

She must have been the one to check him out. She had to bank on the hope that she was the one taking care of him now. Perhaps getting him back wouldn't be as difficult as she thought.

The computer chair swiveled sideways with her in it. From a book case she yanked out a recent phone book. The woman must have been listed. And if not, she had a lead. And she'd find him. He wasn't getting away from her again.

* * *

"Sweetie?"

"Hi, Ange."

"How's it going?"

"I don't… know."

"That doesn't sound good."

"I'm worried I made a mistake, thinking I could take care of him."

"What's been happening?"

Strain. "I knew withdrawal would be difficult, but I never imagined."

"He's going through withdrawal while trying to sort his way through trauma, sweetie."

"I know. But I really thought I could help him. It seems as though he doesn't want it. He resists anything I try to do to help him." Pause. Whisper. "He is unable to talk because his throat was burned by a chemical agent."

Gasp. "Oh, my God."

"He doesn't seem at all interested in doing anything to heal it. He just doesn't care about talking. He won't cooperate with the police so they can catch who did this to him. I don't know how much I can help him because psychologically I don't know what he's going through."

"Sweetie, even the best therapists in the world would have trouble with him right now."

Tears. "He's in so much pain, Ange. And he won't let me in to any of it."

"He's protecting you."

"That's absurd. He's the one who needs protecting."

"He'll get through this."

"The withdrawal is… affecting his mind. I don't know how much he cares about…"

"He'll make it. Just keep working at him."

"Thanks, Ange."

"Just take care of him, sweetie. The rest will follow."

* * *

"Brennan."

"Dr. Brennan? It's Dr. Hodgins."

"Yes. I'm assuming you're calling because you have some results for me."

"His clothes were still teeming with evidence. Between the grass stains, dirt smudges, crushed insect activ-"

"Results?"

"Right. His body was recovered in the Michaux State Forest, right?"

Shivers. Does he really have to say it that way? "Yes."

"All right. This is what I've got. There were small slivers of concrete imbedded into his clothes, mainly his jeans and the lower hem of his shirt."

"Slivers?"

"There was a subdivision built near the park back in the eighties. One of their big draws that they advertised was a special kind of concrete they used in the basements. It had an ingredient in it that was supposed to be more resistant against flooding. Of course, it was bogus and they got sued because people are naïve and will believe anything and-"

"Point?"

"Sorry. The point is, this subdivision is built on the north side of the park. Booth must have escaped, hiked up into the park and headed down the Appalachian trail where that father and son found him. So I don't have an exact house, but-"

"You've narrowed it down to the neighborhood. Good work, Hodgins."

* * *

Brennan hung up. She tentatively opened her bedroom door and stepped outside. The television had been left on at a low volume. Otherwise, all was silent. Booth was no where to be seen.

She passed straight into the living room. There she found him asleep on the couch. She stood over him and watched on. For once his dreams, if he was dreaming, seemed to be peaceful. His muscles were flaccid. In a healthy normal rhythm his chest rose and fell with his breathing. In that moment it was easy to forget all that had happened to him. It didn't seem real, that something so evil could be inflicted onto another.

But it was real. For an entire year she'd gone on thinking she'd lost him. And really, she almost had. She was certain if Booth hadn't of escaped his captor would have pushed him until he'd died. Enough damage had already been done.

His captor. At last Brennan felt like they were making progress. If it took the rest of her life she'd hunt down the man who'd done this. With or without Booth, she would bring him justice.


	10. Spirialing

_Booth's back was up against a solid cold brick wall. His hands were bound behind his back. When he woke he'd found himself forced down onto his knees, his legs tucked underneath him. A good hour had passed by and he still hadn't seen anyone. What had happened? Who was holding him hostage? Why couldn't he remember anything?_

_Darkness swooped in on him. Footsteps echoed off of seemingly endless walls. Booth could see nothing but a pair of black boots. A man towered over him. No matter how hard he craned his neck he just couldn't see up high enough. _

_The figure laughed._

_Booth inhaled a breath into his lungs. He was in danger. Much more danger than he'd previously realized. He needed to find a way out. And quickly. Uselessly he tried to pull his wrists apart. Cold hard metal kept them in place. That didn't stop him from trying._

"_There's no way out, Agent Booth. There's no escaping me."_

_Booth kept himself emotionless. He'd give nothing away. Still his muscles continued to work his restraints._

_The figure bent at the waist. In a firm grip he held onto Booth's throat and pushed back to keep him in place. From a pocket in a large black trench coat wrapped around the man, he removed a cup with a lip. In one graceful movement he easily slid the lid off. Then he raised it to Booth's lips._

_Booth did nothing. He kept his gaze straight ahead, not looking at anyone or at any particular thing. _

"_Obey!" The voice commanded. His grasp tightened, nearly cutting off Booth's breathing._

_Booth choked. He unconsciously opened his mouth to try and draw in oxygen. The man reacted immediately. Into his mouth he poured the liquid. Booth sputtered, but it did no good. The liquid slipped down his throat, burning all the way down into his empty stomach._

_Hours later he was alone. As the poisonous fluid had taken its course through his body he'd fallen down to his side. He was unconscious, and damn near dead._

_And that was exactly how Brennan found him. She fell down onto her knees by his side. "Booth? Booth!" Carefully she got him onto his back. "Wake up!" Her voice raised octaves. "I'm too late. I'm too late!"_

"Bones?"

Brennan gasped as she came to. Her eyes flipped open. In her startled state she looked around to find she wasn't in some dark lair. She was in her bedroom. And kneeling besides the bed next to her was Booth. He wasn't in perfect condition. But he wasn't dying either.

"You okay?"

She blinked at him, trying to comprehend his words. It'd been two days since they'd been to see the ENT doctor. Booth had been doing everything he'd been instructed to do. He'd even begun trying to talk, though it was difficult for him. She could see the pain it caused every time he so much as said a word. Despite his trying, she could also see his heart wasn't into it. Every day he seemed to be pulling further away from her. His apathy was troubling. "I was too late," she murmured.

He narrowed his eyes in confusion.

She meant her dream, but it also seemed true in real life. She'd been too late to save him the night he'd been abducted.

Brennan sat up, rubbing her hands over her face. Booth had been asleep in the living room when she'd gone to bed for the night. She must have been crying out. "Did I wake you?"

He nodded a little. Whenever possible he tried to avoid using his voice. It sounded every bit like a voice that hadn't been used in months. It was low, gravely, and cracked frequently.

"I'm sorry," she sighed.

He shrugged. He got back up and let himself out of her room. She watched him go with frustration. It felt like two steps forward and three back. There was no giving up on him. If her efforts were in vain then so be it. But he'd already given up on himself.

For a short while she laid in bed thinking. Then she got up, dressed, and started her day.

Booth was staring listlessly at the television. Evidently he wasn't processing anything. Lately he'd retreated quite often to a place inside himself as a form of protection. Anyone else might have guessed nothing was wrong. But knowing him like she did, Brennan knew better. That vacant stare told her everything. Booth was blocking out some memory that had come back to him.

She waited a few minutes before asking him, "do you want a milk shake?"

There was a slight spark of interest. He nodded at her.

At last she'd been able to get him to consume something. The shakes were easy on his throat and helped fight what had been his losing battle against weight loss. They gave her a sense of purpose. Finally, she was doing some good!

In minutes she had one ready. Just as she handed him a glass there was a knock at the door. Booth froze. He looked wary. In the time he'd been staying with her they hadn't had any visitors. Most of their friends had followed Brennan's advice to stay away until he was ready.

He made a noise in his throat, wincing immediately after, as she went to the door. Wariness turned into alarm.

Brennan disregarded him. She peeked through the peep hole in her door. Two FBI agents waited patiently. One knocked yet again. Why were they here? She opened the door a crack and looked through. "Can I help you?"

"Dr. Brennan, we're agents-"

"Yes, I know. You helped search for Booth. What do you need?" Her voice was clipped.

The two agents exchanged glances. "We really need to speak with him. Enough time has passed and we need a statement."

Brennan paused. "Does it have to be done now?"

"It's important. Either you let us in or-"

She wasn't afraid of threats from the FBI. She instead was concerned about Booth. In throwing open the door to tell them exactly what she thought, they mistook it as invite. Inside they came. The two zeroed in on Booth like hawks.

"Agent Booth," the first one started. "I'm Agent Skeltin. This is Agent Riley. We were assigned to your case when you went missing. And now that you're back, we really need your help in catching whomever did this to you."

Booth said nothing. Brennan witnessed "the look." He was shutting down.

"Can you tell me what he looked like?"

Booth just stared.

"Type of car? Any distinguishing features he had?"

He gave no reaction.

"Anything you remember about him at all?"

_There was a knock on the door. Booth opened it to find a woman standing before him. "Hi. Can I help you?"_

"_Are you Agent Booth?"_

_Booth stood up straighter. "Yeah?"_

_Her smile turned devious. "Good." Instantaneously she lifted a device and pressed it against his chest. The shock dropped him straight down to the floor._

"She," he spit out in a growl.

"She?" The agent repeated, dumb founded.

Booth couldn't handle anymore. He pushed his way out of the room. In Brennan's bedroom he shut himself in. Down onto the edge of her bed he collapsed.

The three remaining hadn't moved. Brennan was just as stunned as the others. She? All this time it'd been a she? Things suddenly became easier for her to understand. His initial reluctance to allow her to bestow him with any sort of affection. His reactions to being touched. The night they were watching the movie; how he'd grown uncomfortable with what he'd seen.

A hard pit formed in her stomach. What had "she" done to him?

The two agents got up off the couch. "We'll, uh, let it end there today." Riley stammered. He and Skeltin moved to the door.

"Can you do anything with that information?" Brennan wondered.

"It's a start. We'll look into his case history and see through there if there's any connection." Riley stopped before leaving. "He's gotta talk sooner or later, to someone."

"I know."

Once they were gone she traced Booth's steps. He'd rolled onto his stomach in her bed. His eyes were closed, but she knew he was awake. Their questioning had really bothered him. Had they been too demanding? Should she have let it go? Or should she have jumped in and protected him? It was hard to say, and looking back on it, she still didn't have an answer. "Booth?"

"Alone." He requested.

"We're alone now."

He shook his head. "Alone_."_

He wanted to _be _alone. "But I-"

"_Alone." _His teeth were grit.

Sadly she left him, shutting the door behind her.

Booth laid and let his mind bombard him with a mirage of memories and torture. Something had tripped a switch in his brain. He'd lost his grip climbing up the slippery slope of sanity. And now, he was falling.


	11. Crash And Burn

Booth stayed in Brennan's bed for a good remainder of the day. He felt too depressed to get up. Infrequently he heard the door open and close as Brennan checked on him. His heart cringed every time he heard her. She didn't deserve his anger or pain. She didn't deserve any of it. He tried hard to keep it away from her. To shut her out. But now, thanks to those agents, it felt like a scab had been ripped off his heart. Now they knew about _her. _

Every day he held on convincing himself that the next day would be better. He waited day in and day out to feel better. That relief just wasn't coming. If anything, his condition worsened. What good was he to anyone? Since he'd been out of the hospital he hadn't even been to see his son. What kind of father did that make him? A terrible one. Really, what kind of father could he be in this state of mind? No matter what happened he doubted he'd ever be the man he was.

In the military he recalled coming home from war and hearing many of his buddies suffering from PTSD, or post traumatic stress syndrome. Booth was sure he now too had been inflicted with the same disorder. The war had affected him in its own way. He'd gambled away his issues. Back then he thought himself as being too strong as to let something so emotional get to him. Which was another reason now why he struggled. He'd fought in a war. He'd taken lives, and seen his friends killed before him. If he could handle all that, why couldn't he handle this?

_You're a pathetic excuse for a human being. Look at you. A complete waste. _

He jumped at the sound of her voice in his head. Great. Now he was hearing her, as well.

_You're killing her just as much as you're killing yourself._

He tugged a pillow over his ears.

_You should just end it all. You'll feel better. _She cackled. _You'll find your peace._

Booth pushed him up off her bed. No. He had to distract himself. _This isn't you. _Although he was having a hard time telling himself that now. Things had gone too far. He was nearly in tears from despair.

From the bedroom he stalked into the living room. It wasn't so much where he went, but more the movement that he was after. Purposefully he ignored Brennan. He stood straight in front of his window and looked out into the parking lot. He tried to focus on something. Anything.

_Booth managed to get his eyes open. He was being pulled across gravel. His shirt had ridden up, leaving stones and broken bits of glass to scratch up his back. Just before he was heaved up into the air he saw a red fender of a small model sports car._

Booth gasped at the memory. A red car. She'd kidnapped him in a red car. His breathing hitched as he frantically searched the parking lot for red cars. She was out there. She was watching him. Was that car… could it be…?

There was only so much he could take. When her face appeared to him again he had to turn himself away. His heart beat begun to race in his chest. He found himself breathing faster and faster. The walls were closing in on him. _She _was closing in on him. He was dying.

"Booth?" Brennan got up off the couch. Her partner's face was turning red. He shuddered his breaths. Back and forth his eyes darted as though he were searching for something. The last time he'd acted this way had been because of the withdrawal; because she hadn't gotten him his pills in time. This time she knew he'd been properly medicated. So what on earth was going on?

He backed away from her with an unidentifiable expression. His hand furiously rubbed at his chest.

"You're having a panic attack." She realized. If she'd thought the last one had been bad, this one made that one seem like nothing. Carefully she closed the space between them. "You need to relax." Last time he'd calmed when she'd gotten him to lay down. Somehow she needed to get him there again; get him to somewhere that he felt he was safe.

Booth wasn't willing to follow her at first. He reared away from her. Though Brennan seemed to know, Booth didn't understand what was happening to him. He hadn't wanted her knowing how far gone he was. However, on her second attempt to reach him, he gave in. He trusted her.

She laid him back down on his back in bed. Then she sat down next to him, just to be with him. Delicately she took a hold of his hand. She kept an eye on him as the attack took its toll on his battered body.

_Look at what you're doing to her. _Booth panted. _We both know she'd be better off without you. They all would be. I should have killed you when I had the chance._

Oh, God. His eyes squeezed shut. He just couldn't breathe. Off somewhere he could feel Brennan with him. Why hadn't she taken him to the hospital? Why was he hearing "her" voice? What was happening to him?

His breathing grew ragged. Brennan was murmuring in his ear but he couldn't make out any words. There was a pressure on his hand. Where was it coming from? Time felt like it was slowing down. His body stiffened. And then, suddenly, he was gone.

Brennan was horrified with cold fear to realize Booth was having a seizure. Luckily, it didn't last long. But he came out of it completely dazed. Her heart broke when he looked at her vacantly through slit eyes. It was as if someone had wiped his mind clean. He remembered nothing. Not even himself. Soon he floated off into a fitful sleep as the after shocks of the seizure wore off, and the exhaustion set in.

A seizure was common during the withdrawal process, so Booth's doctors had said. But that knowledge wasn't comforting. It just made her continue to question if she was doing the right thing. _Am I helping him at all? Maybe he'd be better off with more qualified care takers. _But in her heart she couldn't make herself believe that. He could barely tolerate having her around him. Being forced around complete strangers in the hospital had a lethal potential. In the most dire of circumstances he'd been able to nearly kill himself. If he'd managed that then the hospital wouldn't be likely to be able to stop him until it was too late.

She crossed to the other side and laid down besides him, as close as she could get without touching him. When he woke she'd most likely have to retreat from the bed. Maybe even the room. But for now she sought the comfort of just being near him.

* * *

It was much later when Booth's eyes opened again. The natural light in the room had faded as early evening had set in. He fumbled around on Brennan's nightstand in trying to find a switch on her lamp. Soft light flooded the room when he did.

He couldn't remember why he was in Brennan's bed, or how he'd gotten there. In trying to remember his mind offered him pieces of the puzzle. FBI agents had been there to interrogate him. He'd been distraught. But what had happened after that?

He rolled onto his side to find himself face to face with Brennan. She'd fallen into a slumber. He laid his head back down on the pillow close to hers. Since they both were still and alone he used the time to study her. Really see her. The days were immensely affecting her. To him she appeared worn out. Frail. Dark circles of worry framed her eyes. Unconsciously he stroked a strand of hair away from her face. She didn't stir.

What was he doing to her? Brennan thought she was taking care of him, but he felt more like a sponge on her. A drain. She deserved better than what he was able to give back. Which was nothing. Every day was proving to be worse than the last. Down into a hole he was dragging her down with him. There was no saving him. It was time for that to change.

* * *

Something brought Brennan back to consciousness. She opened her eyes to find herself alone. Her heart sunk down inches in her chest. Great. She'd made him ill at ease. Inwardly she groaned as she pulled herself out of bed. She didn't feel the slightest bit rested. But that didn't matter. Booth was her primary concern.

He sat on the couch in the living room with his head bowed. Between his hands he rotated a pill bottle back and forth. His eyes were red. His shoulders shook. Over all he gave off a general air of defeat. Something bad was about to happen.

"Booth?" Cautiously she approached him. "What are you doing?"

His voice was soft and rough. "It doesn't matter anymore, Bones."

"Yes, it does." Another step. "It does to me." She didn't hear any noise coming from the bottle. Oh no. Had he taken them all?

"I've decided to leave," he nodded to the door where a packed bag sat. "I don't want to burden you anymore."

He was leaving so she wouldn't be there when he carried out whatever terrible thing he had planned. She couldn't let him go. "Burden me? What are you talking about?"

"I don't want you having to deal with this."

_Too late. _"I want to be here."

Booth sprung up onto his feet. His expression turned hateful. "No. You need to get away from me."

"Booth." She went to him.

"You can't fix me, all right? You can't take away what she did!"

"I can-"

"The things she did." The shameful truth poured from his mouth before he could stop it. "I burned my own throat, Bones! It was me!"

She gaped. He'd done it…?

"I drank drain cleaner or bleach or something because I wanted to die! Because I gave up!" Tears fell down his cheeks. "Because I want to die."

Brennan embraced him. It was the only thing she could think of to do. Surprisingly, he didn't fight her like she thought he would. He let her hold him, shaking like a leaf. Back down onto the couch she sat with him. She thought about telling him yet again that this was the influence of the withdrawal. But right now, that seemed to mean nothing to him. Right now he was aching with pain. "If you give up, she'll win." She murmured quietly.

"I don't care."

"Yes, you do. Or else you wouldn't have escaped. You'd still be trapped."

That caught his attention.

"I know," she continued. "You feel hopeless. I know it hurts." Tears formed in her own eyes. His pain was her pain. "But you can't give up. Give it a little more time. Give _me _a little more time."

"Bones, she… I can't…"

"Yes you can."

"I can't stay," he insisted again. "You don't deserve this, Bones."

"Neither do you." She laid a hand over his. "And you don't deserve to have to go through this alone."

He stood. "I have to… I have to leave." His words were getting weaker.

"No, Booth. You have to _talk. _It's the only way you're going to get through this." She grasped his palm firmly with her fingers.

The amount of emotion and trauma had reached its boiling point. Booth sat back down next to her. His eyes looked straight back into hers. With a deep, painful breath, he began to speak.


	12. Not Giving Up

_She had gotten what she wanted from him._

_Finished, she removed herself from his body, leaving him there hollow and alone. She walked behind him and removed the hand cuffs she'd secured around his wrists. "This is all your fault, you know," she told him as she clasped the cuffs back together. "You have no one to blame but yourself for any of this."_

_Booth shut his eyes tightly. He didn't want to hear it. He couldn't believe it. But at this point, he nearly did. He'd been in captivity for so long he'd lost count of the days. The abuse had broken him down into a shell of what he was; what he had been._

_A satisfied smirk was on her face as she took herself back upstairs and into the main area of the house. Behind her the door slammed shut._

_Completely still he laid. There was no point in getting up. There wasn't much point in anything anymore. She used him for whatever suited her and then threw him away. Scars from brutal burns and vicious cuts covered a good potion of his body. Though he couldn't see them he could feel them, both with his fingertips and simply on his skin. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen light besides the yellow glow of a night light. Natural light used to faintly show from the two windows up on the wall, but after one of his escape attempts she boarded them up. That hadn't deterred him. Even after she hooked up the electric shock wires she still left them covered._

_The verbal abuse she'd put into his brain was sinking in. He couldn't help himself but to listen. No one was looking for him. They all had given up. As far as they were concerned he was dead and gone. There wasn't a single person who cared. He was worthless. His life had meant nothing to anyone. _

_Booth was sick. Both physically and mentally. He was tired. And he couldn't take living in such pain anymore. He couldn't let her continue to take her sick pleasure out on him. Somehow, he had to end his life. It was the only way he could take power back._

_He maneuvered himself onto his stomach. From there he strained to push himself up onto his hands and knees. Earlier in the day when he'd tried to resist her advances she'd beat on the bones in his feet to keep him from walking away. Now he couldn't stand to take any steps._

_He crawled towards the light in the bathroom. It was a simple bathroom, with no more than a toilet and a sink. The sink was shallow, the kind found in hospitals to keep patients from drowning themselves. She'd acted like it had been such a treat to give him his own bathroom. She'd expected him to worship her, and when he didn't he'd been punished for it._

_Booth shook his head. No more. His thoughts were firing off at rapid speed. No more of any of it. He gripped the sink and lifted himself into a standing position. The pain in his feet nearly dropped him back down to the ground. His muscles quivered as he held himself upright. One hand kept him balanced while the other opened the door of the medicine cabinet. Every shelf was empty, he was disappointed to find. Had he really expected anything different? She'd done what she could to make sure he stayed alive._

_Back down to the floor he fell in a heap. He wanted to cry from frustration. How much more could he take? What else could he do to harm himself? In the faint light he looked down at his wrist. He'd gotten a hold of a butter knife and tried unsuccessfully to cut himself. It'd done nothing but leave a few pink surface scratches._

_He leaned back against the sink. His back brushed against hard wood, and a cool piece of metal. Again he sat forward and turned himself around. A cabinet was underneath the sink. A lock kept the latch closed. That had to mean there was something dangerous hidden behind the double doors. Without thinking twice he began pounding at the lock with his fist. Harder and harder he hit it, until surprisingly it fell apart. The shaft fell down onto the ground. Booth pulled the latching mechanism away and tossed it. Eagerly he opened the doors._

_Inside was an array of cleaning products. Yes! He could poison himself! He didn't pay attention to what he was doing. He just grabbed. In a matter of seconds he twisted the top off and began drinking. The chemical burned his lips and mouth. It seared down his throat, burning all the way down into his nearly empty stomach. The smell of it made his eyes water. But still he drank until he couldn't anymore. He put the bottle down and coughed horrendously. _

_The chemical cycled through his veins. His vision became blurry. He felt light headed. The air in his lungs seemed to dissipate. It was working! He was dying! He smiled to himself as he passed out._

_Booth woke up to terrible pains in his stomach. He sat up and wretched, nearly choking himself as he vomited. Blood left a metallic taste in his mouth. _

"_What. Did. You. Do?"_

_The voice made him pause. Then he vomited again. He disappointedly realized he hadn't died, and by the looks of it, wasn't dying. Had she done something to save him? He tried to moan, then stopped as an unbearable pain formed in his throat. He collapsed back down onto the ground._

"_I ought to kill you. But that's what you wanted, wasn't it? I think it's a better punishment to make you live like this."_

_He shut his eyes and listened to her clomp back upstairs. Just as she shut the door he dry heaved yet again._

Brennan had tears in her eyes by the time he finished his story. Booth hadn't looked at her once during the entire time he'd spoken. He'd allowed her touch, even flipping his hand over to hold hers. But he hadn't looked up from the floor.

"Booth? When you say she… she "got what she wanted," did you mean…?" She could barely ask.

He raised his eyes to hers. And in them she got her answer. She was outraged. When they found "her" she'd take great pleasure in killing that woman herself. They would find her. She would see to it.

"That's just one of a thousand memories I don't want," he said softly. "I can't live like this. I don't want to." Something in him had released while he'd confided in her. He was surprised to find a tension that had been within him had been lifted.

"You can't give up. You're a father," she tried.

"Parker's better off without me."

"No. It's proven that-"

"I'm no father in this condition."

"You'll get better."

"I can't stand to be touched."

"You let me," she squeezed his hand as proof.

"That's cause you're Bones."

Despite the seriousness of the situation she smiled. Out of everyone in his world she was still someone he trusted. Someone he felt comfortable enough to turn to. "It'll get better. But it'll take time," she tried to emphasize. "I know you've given up on yourself. But don't give up on me."

"Okay." He agreed sadly.

Brennan wondered how long he could live off his faith in her alone. An idea struck her. One she decided to go with. "We're going somewhere tomorrow."

"Huh?"

She nodded.

* * *

It hadn't been as hard to find Dr. Temperance Brennan as she had thought. Sometimes she contemplated if she'd made the right career choice in life. Nursing was her calling, but she seemed to be excellent at detective work. Now if she could only get confirmation that Booth was there.

Luckily, she had the day off work. In the early morning hours she parked her car at the far end of the parking lot of the complex Brennan lived in. She pushed her seat back and laid just far enough to be oblivious to view, but enough so she could see out. And there she waited.

People came and went. Single men and women. Families. Single mothers. All different types lived in Brennan's building. She felt herself getting antsy. She wished there was some way she could just go to the front door and find out if he was there. But it was too gutsy. If she wanted to stay on the sly then she had to be patient.

At last her patience paid off. Brennan walked out into the parking lot with Booth behind her. She was aggravated to see how much healthier he looked since he'd made his break. No. This was all wrong. Rage gripped her chest.

He stopped just outside the passenger door of Brennan's car. She caught him staring back at her own vehicle. Oh no. Did he know? Could he have?

_Keep staring, Agent Booth, _she silently sneered to him. _Your days are numbered._


	13. Therapy

Author's Note: This chapter is for mature audiences. That's all I'm going to say :-D

* * *

Booth couldn't tear his eyes away from the red car at the opposite end of the parking lot. His gaze was still fixed on it even as he climbed into the passenger seat of Brennan's car. He twisted around to keep looking. Was someone in it? It looked just like… had she found him? The hair on both the back of his neck and his arms stood on end. His instincts were screaming foul.

"Booth?" Brennan questioned. His behavior was troubling. This was the first time he'd been out of the apartment since he'd come home. Was it too soon? Was she making a wise decision in taking him out?

Last night he'd had difficulty sleeping. He'd woken shivering and surprised them both by reaching for her. Brennan had stunned herself by wiggling her body next to his. Together they'd fallen back asleep in one another's arms. All morning she'd been trying not to dwell on it. Booth was in pain. He'd needed comfort, and she was there. But it felt like more than that. Like their friendship had taken a new turn.

He flicked his sight to her for a moment before returning it to the car. She tried to follow him. "What is it?"

"That car," he breathed. "It looks just like hers."

Brennan did a double take. She, of course, had no idea what "her" car had looked like. Now she didn't know whether to trust Booth's intuition or chalk it up to his paranoia. "It's the same?"

"I only saw a red fender when I was-" he broke himself off. "But I swear, Bones, it's the same car."

"Booth, there's at least five red cars in this lot. Two of them are even the same model. There's no way she could find you," she tried to soothe him. "No one knows where you are."

Her words didn't seem to penetrate his mind. For an added effect she touched his shoulder. "You're safe." If it took till the end of time to convince him of it, she would repeat it over and over for him.

She could tell he was still bothered. But he let it go. Turning around, he slumped back down into his seat. "I want to drive eventually, you know."

Brennan couldn't help but to smile.

* * *

Sometime later they pulled up in front of a house. Brennan parked her car up against the curb. Booth said nothing as he tilted his head and looked up at the building. "Why'd you bring me here?" He asked quietly.

"To remind you. To show you what you'd be leaving behind if you give up." She exited the car. After a few minutes he did as well.

The two had barely started up the walk when the front door opened. A boy came barreling out of the house. "Dad!" Parker cried. He ran straight up to his father and locked his arms around him.

Booth forced a smile on his face. "Hey, buddy," he hugged his son close.

"Where have you been? Why were you gone so long?" Parker fired off questions. "Are you here to stay? Do you want to go swimming? Can we play?"

He felt a little overwhelmed. But at the same time happy. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed his son until the boy was right there in front of him. "How about we throw around the football?"

"Cool!" Parker raced back inside to get it.

Brennan stood back and watched the family interact. Rebecca had come to stand in the doorway and watch. The two women looked at one another. Brennan had called Rebecca and cleared the visit first. And so far, it seemed to be working.

* * *

By the time they finished up at Rebecca's and came home Booth was in a much better mood. He drank a milk shake in one sitting. After which he showered, then crawled into Brennan's bed alone. Despite feeling good the field trip had left him exhausted. It was early, but he planned on nodding off.

Brennan joined him. He eyed her as she let herself into the opposite side of bed besides him. Now that he wasn't in the grips of an attack or seeking comfort his initial instinct was to flee. _It's just Bones, _he reminded himself. _Everything's fine. _Only for some real it felt like it wasn't. He felt a tension between them that he couldn't identify. But it was a familiar tension.

Brennan pulled the sheets up over herself. Her eyes ran over the length of his body critically. His muscles were tense. He was mentally battling himself. _He's still nervous around me. _She tried not to take it as an insult. Booth was still much more laid back around her than anybody else. But it still bothered her. _It's time we work on this._

"What?" Booth asked as she continued to gaze at him.

"We need to get you used to human interaction again."

"Now?"

"Yes. We should kiss."

"What?" He stammered.

"It's just a form of therapy, Booth. It means nothing other than to get you used to being touched in a sensual manner once again."

"Right. I mean, yeah." Only… no. Booth had always had feelings for her. He wondered if he was really ready for this. But he trusted her. So he allowed it.

She dove right in fearlessly. Tenderly she pressed her lips to his. He jerked slightly at the contact. But he didn't completely withdraw from her. His breathing hitched as he kissed her back much deeper than he intended. It was as if this idea of "therapy" was forgotten before it even began. They melted into one another. He unconsciously parted his lips and let her tongue into his mouth. His own mingled with hers. They tempted and tasted one another. Booth found that he was enjoying himself. Kissing her felt natural. It felt _right. _Which was why he wondered if they should stop.

Brennan too, was losing herself in him. She took a firm hold of the shirt he was wearing and pulled him closer to her body. Her hand rested on his cheek.

With a gasp he pulled away. Regret filled his eyes once he realized what he'd done. "Sorry."

It wasn't his fault. It was all imprinted on his memory now. This she knew. "She" had brain washed him. The damage needed to be undone. She didn't break eye contact as she slid her hand down his neck. She smoothed her fingers over his chest. Beneath her palm she could feel his racing heart beat. The action was so simple. And yet for the two of them, it was almost seductive. Sexy. Booth was the first one to continue their kiss where it had ended, pleasing her.

She caressed down around his stomach. Him allowing her touch sparked a surge of bravery. Underneath his shirt she slipped her hand. She retraced everywhere she'd been, only with skin on skin contact. He trembled, but never stopped her. Their kissing intensified.

Brennan thought out her next move very carefully. Booth was pent up. It'd been quite some time she was sure since he'd truly been able to relax. He needed it. For once he needed his own good release. But she had to be cautious in her actions. Anything sudden could trigger a frightened response; perhaps a meltdown. So she moved slowly. Her hand drifted down to his waist. After a minute she slid it underneath the waist band of his pajama pants.

He rolled himself away from her. "What are you doing?" He asked anxiously.

She shrugged nonchalantly. Maybe if she acted as though it were no big deal he'd go with it. "Therapy. You need to learn that all sexual encounters aren't bad."

He was breathing heavily. "And you want to be the one to teach me that?"

"Yes. It's merely a teaching purpose."

Uncertainty was written all over his face as he laid back down. It took him a moment of thought before he gave permission. Both of them knew they were getting in over their heads. Feelings were going to get messy; get in the way. But neither of them were willing to stop.

Brennan pushed her hand into his pajama pants again. She resumed kissing him as her hand dipped lower and took a hold of him. His reaction was worse than she anticipated. His body grew rigid. He stopped kissing her. His head dropped down to his chest as he heaved.

Brennan frowned. Her partner looked purely broken. Was she doing the right thing? Did he think she was taking advantage of him? The thought scared her. Was she behaving just like "her?" No, Brennan decided after thinking about it. "She" had violated him in an act of domination. She wanted to strip him of power. While Brennan's motivation was love. Love made her want to erase the evil associations in his life.

"Booth," she whispered.

He looked up at her, quivering.

"It's just me."

Swallowing, he nodded. Affectionately she kissed him again in hopes of distraction as she glided her hand over him with a feather light touch. At first he writhed, but then hardened. Slowly she moved her hand over him in a repeated motion.

Some time passed before he was even semi comfortable. A reddish tinge had appeared on his cheeks. He was embarrassed by himself. By her. "She" had turned what should have been something pleasurable into something terrible. He closed his eyes against the darkened image of her. Instead he tried to focus on the beautiful woman next to him. This was something he would have dreamed of once. Then again that had all been _before._

Brennan never allowed her eyes to stray away from his face. At the first sign of trouble she was ready to back off. The last thing she wanted was to make anything worse for him. This was to be enjoyable and nothing more or less.

When she increased the tempo in her motion he shifted his hips to match underneath her. He groaned out loud. His breathing grew to be faster and faster. Brennan watched as he grew closer and closer. But nothing happened. He was stopping himself.

"Let go," she whispered in his ear. "It's just me. You're safe."

He released. His hips bucked underneath her hand. Not long after he began to come down off the wave of ecstasy. Tiredly he opened his eyes and looked at her. Just seeing Brennan and not "her" was enough to make him come again.

She smiled, kissing him.

"Bones, I-"

She stopped him. Wordlessly she stretched her body out besides his. The two drifted off to sleep cuddled close together.


	14. Beneath The Skin

She was pacing the length of her kitchen. All day she'd worn the floor and all night she'd tossed and turned. Seeing Booth appearing to be in recovery started a cascade of memories which flooded all of her senses. The power of the explosion. The searing heat of the fire. The thick smoke billowing out from the shattered frame of the kitchen window. The smell of burning bodies. She shuddered.

_It wasn't right, Jessie. You weren't hurting anyone. They had no right._ In her mind's eye she pictured Booth walking out through the front door. He was bleeding from minor wounds he'd suffered in the blast. His colleagues had seized on him, followed by paramedics. Off to an ambulance he'd been whisked, though his lacerations were hardly anything to be concerned with.

Robby, her baby brother, though he was hardly a baby at nineteen, stumbled out of the house with several more agents pulling him in hand cuffs. A gaping head wound leaked blood all down the side of his temple and cheek. Medical help was slower in their actions to treat him.

It was as though it all happened yesterday, though it'd been over a year and a half ago. Everything she had left in her life after her parents' untimely death had been taken away. The house she'd shared with her siblings had been destroyed. Robby had gone to jail. Jessie had died. All because of Booth. She'd vowed revenge. And the payback she'd gotten had been satisfying. His escape had awakened new feelings in her. Their relationship was beyond vengeance now.

_I'm done with him. No more torture. No more fun. When he comes back it'll be for the last time. You can take care of the rest of him in Hell, Jessie._ She grinned to herself. The trouble was, he was never away from _that woman_. Brennan, she presumed. Brennan who resembled her sister. There was no way she could fathom hitting her. Hurting her. Besides, she had no idea what the woman was capable of. A psych class in college had taught her adrenaline knew no bounds. No gender or strength. If the two had a close relationship, which they seemed to, then it was likely she could inflict some real damage in trying to protect him. Hell, she'd only nabbed Booth the first time because of a shock device.

This time she had to be devious. She had to lure Booth to her place. It was a game of cat and mouse. And the cat never lost track.

* * *

_Booth couldn't breathe. "She" was stalking back and forth above him. Against her leg she tapped a metal baseball bat. Sporadically she'd swing it against his rib cage in an act of fury. "What did you think you were doing?"_

_His stomach was already burning. The pain the chemical had left him in had all but disabled him. Each blow was like a knife plunging into his chest. He tried to yell out with a voice that wouldn't come. _

_"You can't get away from me!"_

_A ruckus thunderstorm had developed outside. Hail pinged off the roof. Heavy rain pelted the windows. A rumble of thunder had shaken the boards off. She'd been too furious to notice. _

_Booth saw the bat raised again. He tried to roll away from her using what little breath he could muster. _

_"Damn it!" She tugged him back roughly. Her finger nails scratched into the flesh on his arm. "Hold still!"_

_She lifted the bat over her head. Lightning flashed outside the window. Its illumination touched her face and body. _

Booth woke gripped by a powerful panic attack. Next to him Brennan slept on, unaware. He thought about waking her, but decided against it. Clumsily he stumbled from the bed into the living room.

_Long red, dyed hair was tied back in a pony tail. She was muscular, much more than a woman should be. Pale porcelain skin set off intense green eyes and freckled cheeks. _

He was falling down in a tail spin. Booth staggered out into the kitchen. He felt faint, like he was going to pass out at any given moment. Onto the edge of the counter he reached out, wrapping his fingers around the edge. His head dropped downwards as he struggled with erratic breathing.

His grip started to slip. In the process of trying to hold on his arm knocked into a glass of water that had been left by the side of the sink. Brennan had left it there before she'd gone to bed for the night. It fell off the counter and shattered into pieces on the floor.

_You won't die. You'll never escape me! NEVER._

His eyes drifted down to one of the bigger sharp fragments. She was right. No matter how much progress he made he'd never be able to truly get away from her. Her voice would always be in his head, cutting him down. Making him weak and insignificant. And what was worse, no one would be able to convince him otherwise. The brain washing had been difficult to inflict, and now even harder to remove. It remained like a stubborn tumor.

_I'll always be here. I'm your disease._

Booth couldn't stop staring at the glass. Suddenly it was as if he was outside himself, watching. He picked up a broken fragment. The edge of it he pushed down against the skin on his wrist.

"Booth?"

He heard Brennan, but it didn't register.

"Booth." She stepped besides him. Very carefully so as not to cut herself she managed to remove the shard from his hand. Booth didn't fight her. He went as defenseless as a baby kitten.

She moved herself into his line of vision. Again she repeated his name. It wasn't until she touched his face that he seemed to return to himself. Blinking, he exhaled deeply. "Bones."

"What happen-"

"I saw her."

"Here?" She asked frantically.

"In my dreams. My memory."

Brennan's eyes widened. She led Booth into the living room and sat him down. She near flew to her desk. If she could keep Booth talking, thinking about "her" then perhaps he would be able to give a description. Tonight Brennan would write it down. Tomorrow she'd get Angela to work with Booth's words and come up with a sketch.

Her notebook was open where she'd left it. She grabbed a pen from a coffee cup she kept filled with writing utensils. "Tell me-" She broke herself off. The last manuscript in her book wasn't her own. She read over the words rapidly. Booth. Her gaze snapped to him.

Booth was still on the couch. He was stooped over with his head in his hands.

When had this been written? Though everything seemed to be improving she was still losing him. She had to steady her emotional breathing before she could continue. "Tell me what she looked like."

* * *

"Something like this?"

Angela turned her sketchbook around for Booth to see. It was the following morning. The sun had barely risen before Brennan had called in her best friend.

On the page was the image of a striking young woman. She looked too beautiful, her eyes too innocent to be such a monster. But Booth's reaction made both Brennan and Angela believe the truth.

A forlorn expression marred his face. He nodded, then left the room. They heard the door to Brennan's bedroom close.

"I'll take this sketch to the agents working Booth's case. Maybe they can run it through one of their databases and find something." Brennan accepted the sketch that Angela ripped from her pad.

"Lets make a copy of it first. I'll run my image program against it on the internet and see what turns up."

Brennan readily agreed. "Anything we can do to catch her."

Angela paused while putting her various drawing materials away. "Sweetie, he's-"

"I know." She snapped. Sighing, she apologized. "I thought he was starting to get better, but-"

"This is good, though, right? I mean, he's remembering."

"I know. But look at what it's doing to him." Brennan removed her notebook from the coffee table. She opened it to the last page and showed her Booth's words. "I don't know when he wrote this."

"He's still in danger," Angela murmured.

"He's dangerous to himself." She shivered, thinking about his encounter with the broken glass. "I don't know what to do. I'm not giving up, but," Brennan's voice strained. "I just don't know how to help him."


	15. Wanted: Dead Or Alive

The first step in helping him, Brennan finally decided, was getting his abductor off the street and into jail. Booth never was able to fully let go. Last night was perfect indication that she was still wrecking havoc in his life. The knowledge that she was still out there was always in the back of his mind. His guard never lowered.

It frightened Brennan to wonder what would of happened if she hadn't of heard the glass break. If she hadn't of woken. Would she have come into the kitchen in the morning to find him dead on the floor? Her throat tightened so much it damn near closed at the thought. There had to be something more she could do. Catching this woman seemed to be the only way she knew how. For the moment.

Once Angela left she hesitantly entered her bedroom. She didn't exactly know how to act around Booth. Last night while they'd been "in the moment" everything had seemed so right. So sure. Now, with the way he was acting, she was second guessing herself. Had it been her who had triggered his nightmare? Had it been a good thing, as he'd at last been able to glimpse into the face of his tormentor? Or bad, as it had nearly taken him to the brink of self destruction? If there was a right answer she didn't know it. It was easy to say it could have been her fault in being so forward. But it also could be said that he may of had that particular nightmare regardless.

Booth had buried himself back in her bed. He'd near covered his entire body with the except of his head. "Booth?" She sat down onto the edge of the bed next to him.

He didn't move.

"I know you're awake."

Reluctantly he rolled onto his side and faced her. She felt her heart lurch looking at him. There was no spark in his eyes. They were cold and unfeeling. Dead.

"What?" He whispered.

"I'm… I'm sorry."

"For what?" He laid his head back and closed his eyes.

She badly wanted to bring up last night. But chose not to. "That you're going through this. I found what you wrote in my journal." _Was it a suicide note? _She dropped her chin to her chest. "I know you meant it."

"I'm worthless, Bones."

"No, you're not."

"I can't even take care of myself. I'm so tired." He shut his eyes tightly. "And every time I sleep I just see _her. _I'm losing my mind."

"What she did to you-"

"I don't want to talk about it." He shut down abruptly. Away from her he rolled onto his stomach.

Brennan wanted to scream in frustration. "Last night-"

He cut her off. "I don't want to talk about that, either."

She pressed her lips together. It was time to end this no where conversation. "I'm going out. I have some errands to run."

"Without me?" There was apprehension in his voice.

"Do you want to come?"

"No." He hid his face deeper in her pillow. "I just want to sleep."

"Okay. I have my phone." She laid a hand on his back. The muscles in his shoulders contracted briefly before letting go. She heard him wheeze a breath slowly through his teeth.

Her mood alternated between anger and sadness. She argued with herself over leaving him. What if he tried to hurt himself again? "Do you want me to stay?"

"No." Booth finally looked at her again. "You should go. I'll be all right."

She stood. "If you need anything, just call me."

He nodded, but she could see he was already gone.

* * *

Booth slept on and off for a few hours. His dreams were still plagued with dreadful nightmares. He woke feeling just as burned out as he had before he'd gone to sleep. For a while he just laid in bed feeling aggravated. Were things ever going to get better? He just wanted his normal life back.

Deep down he knew "normal" would never be in his vocabulary again. At least, not the normal he knew.

After a while he dragged his tired bones out of bed. He wandered into the living room and turned the television on. He only half listened as he walked into the kitchen. Brennan had made some milkshakes and left them in the refrigerator for him. Despite his despondency one of the smooth drinks sounded good to him.

In the background he heard something that made his attention pique.

"The search is still on for Tate Myers. The forty year old man has been missing since early last evening. His car was found abandoned near an athletic field where it is believed he was practicing baseball with some friends."

Booth was drawn to the television as though a powerful force was pushing him. On the screen a newer model Chevy Tahoe was shown. It's windshield was smashed, and several deep scratches were engraved in the driver's side door. He could only imagine what the inside must look like.

Tate Myers. He knew that name. The anchor was purposefully leaving out that the man was an FBI agent. Abducted. Just like he had been. Chills crept up and down his arms, and they weren't from the cold beverage he was holding.

"Nobody saw anything, and police are suspecting foul play."

"Obviously," Booth muttered. He took a sip.

"If you have any information, please call the number listed on the screen."

His heart went out to the man, and anyone involved in his life. If anyone knew what it felt like, he did.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Booth froze. Someone knew he was there. Someone who wanted to hurt him. Light steps he made over to see for himself who it was. Barely breathing, he looked out the peephole. No one was there. A brown letter sized envelope sat in front of the door.

A delivery service, maybe? He used his cat like reflexes to open the door and scoop the letter inside. Behind him he shut the locked it. To the kitchen table he took the envelope. There he ripped it open. His eyes fell over the page rapidly.

_I have the missing agent. If you ever want to see him alive again, come to the address listed below. And come ALONE. I mean it. If I so much as smell a police or fed he'll be dead in a heartbeat. _

An address was listed at the bottom. Booth breathed deeply. All this time and she really was still after him. And now he was stuck. There was no way he was allowing someone else to go through what he did. And he wouldn't let someone die for him, either. He thought about waiting for Brennan, but knew in his heart he wouldn't do it. This was his problem; his fight. He wouldn't let her get hurt, or worse, killed, because of him.

Booth changed from his pajamas into a shirt and jeans. He stuffed the letter in his back pocket. Before leaving he fished his gun out of the sock drawer where Brennan had been hiding it. He knew all along that she'd had it, and had been keeping it from him.

_I'm sorry, Bones. I can't let you follow me. _He left the apartment. It was time to head back into the snake pit.


	16. Something Missing

"You can't find anything?" Brennan repeated with impatience. She was in Agent Riley's office, standing before the man. She'd near thrust Angela's sketch at him the minute she'd walked in. That had been an hour ago. This trip was taking much longer than she had anticipated. Her mind kept reflecting back to Booth. She was worried immensely about leaving him alone for so long.

"Without a name, it's a difficult search. She's not in any of our databases. Either she's not a criminal, or she's just one who hasn't been caught," Agent Riley explained gently. "Except, that doesn't make any sense." The agent quieted as his thoughts consumed him.

"Why?"

"Because the way she attacked him in the beginning, and the way she kept him hostage, it comes across as more of a vengeful motive. Like she's making him pay for something."

Psychology was a science Brennan never understood. She remained mum.

"Abuse is all about power. So what did he do to her that made her want to reclaim her power?"

"Booth would never do anything!" Brennan snapped back, stung.

"I know. But obviously something happened to this young woman that Agent Booth was somehow inadvertently involved with. Trouble is," he sighed. "I don't know what. There wasn't a single case report with anyone even remotely resembling her. We need a name."

As if on cue Brennan's cell phone rang. Her heart jumped a beat. She didn't look at the caller ID before answering. "Booth?"

"No." Angela sounded puzzled. "It's me. Look, I ran the image with my facial program on the internet. I think I found something. There's a news article from a year and a half ago, about a woman who was killed in a meth lab explosion."

"What does that have to do with Booth?"

"Attached to the article is a picture of a woman who looks like my sketch. She was the sister of the woman killed. Apparently the girl, Jessica Wiles, was running some sort of home made meth lab in their kitchen with her brother, Robert. The FBI investigated. When they moved in to capture them Jessica accidentally set knocked over some chemicals and set off an explosion. She was killed instantly. Robert was injured."

"So was Booth," Brennan vaguely remembered now. He'd been asked to assist in the investigation. He'd come into the Jeffersonian the next morning with cuts to his face and a new case. When questioned he'd been casual about it. Happy they'd been able to make an arrest.

Three months later he'd been abducted.

"Does the sister have a name?"

"Amanda Wiles."

"Thanks, Ange." Brennan went to hang up.

"Wait, sweetie? Are you not with Booth?"

"No. I'm at the bureau with Agent Riley. I took your drawing to him."

Angela was shocked into silence. "You left Booth _alone_? After what happened last night?"

"He assured me he would be all right."

"Of course he did. He's suicidal. He wanted time alone."

The rest of Angela's words were blotted out by a loud roaring in Brennan's ears. Angela was right. How could she have been so foolish? Numbly, she hung up on her friend. "Amanda Wiles," she managed to choke out to Agent Riley. "My colleague believes she's the one." She explained everything while willing the roaring to stop. It only grew louder.

Agent Riley typed in the computer. Brennan excused herself while he did his work. In the hallway she dialed Booth at once. The line rang until it went to his voice mail. Panicked, she called him again three times in a row. Each time her call went unanswered.

_What if Angela's right? What if he's done something? I never got rid of the broken glass. _She'd swept it up off the floor, and thrown it into the trash. But she hadn't taken the trash out. _And the pills. I never hid his pills from him. _There were so many ways. So much he could do to hurt himself. _I'm over reacting. He could be sleeping. _But he didn't sleep deep enough to be undisturbed anymore. The slightest bump in the night had the possibility of waking him up worried. _I could have called Riley to the apartment. I shouldn't have left him._

Something wasn't right. She had to get back home to him.

"Doctor?" Agent Riley poked his head out of his office. "We've got her. I got an address-"

"Is it in a subdivision north of the Michaux State Forest?"

He was genuinely surprised. "Yes."

Hodgins had been right on.

"I'm sending agents there and to her place of work right now. We'll get her."

"Send that address to my phone,"' Brennan instructed as she began walking away.

"Come again?"

"Text it," she hollered back edgily. "I have somewhere I have to be!"

* * *

"Booth!" Brennan was yelling for him before she'd even completely come in the front door. On the way back to her apartment she'd tried calling him another three times. There was never any answer. Just his cold, automated voice mail over and over again.

Stillness greeted her. She came inside and slammed the door behind her. "Booth!" She shouted even louder. Nothing seemed right. The television in the living room had been left on. A glass with a milkshake she'd made sat half empty and melting on the counter. Where was he?

She tried the bedroom first. The sheets on her bed had been thrown back. They sat in a rumpled heap. The drawer where she'd been concealing his weapon was left ajar. Seeing that alone sent another barrage of frightened feelings. Where was he, and why was he with his gun?

The bag that had been holding his clothes was unzipped. A shirt and jeans were missing from inside. So he'd gone somewhere. But why? None of it made sense to her. Booth wouldn't go out. The outside world was something he still didn't like facing alone. Anything beyond the apartment was outside his comfort zone.

Brennan tried to focus her thoughts. Booth was missing, dressed, and with his gun. Two ideas came to mind. Something terrible had happened. And she needed to find him. His life may have been depending on it.


	17. Catch The Wind

Author's Note: Lyrics are "Catch The Wind" by Donovan.

* * *

Booth swallowed as the cab he was riding in pulled up to a quaint yellow one story house. He was here. Like a child he began trembling. Could he really do this? Was he ready? He _had _to be. There were no choices. Life or death, it was time to bring this to an end.

He said little to the cab driver as he paid him. Out he stepped onto the sidewalk. The cab leaving went unnoticed. Booth was too busy absorbing everything. There in the driveway sat the red Honda he'd been taken in. On the side of the house he could see the basement window he'd crawled through to freedom. That felt like ages ago. Sadly, he felt as though not much had changed.

He was still shaking as he went up to the front door and knocked. _You have your gun. She may have changed you, but she never affected your shot. _He reminded himself. His gun was securely tucked in the waistband of his jeans in the small of his back. During his captivity he'd come to know her just as she did him. She'd be checking him for a gun. The back was one place she wouldn't think to look.

The door opened. She stood before him with a devious smirk. The sight of her caused him to nearly drop himself backwards. _No, _he mentally chided himself. _It ends here. _

She moved aside to let him in. "Welcome home."

He didn't take the bait. "I'm here. Now let him go."

She laughed. "Do you really think I'm that stupid? Come in, or else."

Obediently Booth did as told. Behind him she slammed the door shut. Her hand fell onto his back as she guided him into the kitchen. Between his fear of her and his concern of her finding his weapon, the touch nearly immobilized him. "Let him go," he repeated in a shaky voice. "This has to do with you and me. Not him."

She said nothing.

Once they reached the kitchen's thresh hold she flipped the over head light on. In a secluded corner hidden in between a door and a cabinet Agent Myers was tied to a chair. His body was limp. His eyes were shut tight. Booth watched his chest, but he already knew the man had died. She'd used him as a decoy, then killed him. This too, was all his fault.

"You bit-"

She reached into his pants, retrieving his gun before spinning him around and knocking him down onto the floor. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice?"

Booth kept silent.

"Won't talk, huh?" She used the barrel of the gun to tilt his chin to look at her. The cold steel pressed against his throat. "I think we should make that permanent."

Booth grabbed a hold of the gun and tried to wrestle it away from her. A fight ensued. She fired, striking him. Booth was knocked completely onto his back. He was stunned from the blow. The bullet had only grazed his shoulder, but the shock of it distracted him. She used that to her advantage. Instantly she was upon him, pinning him down to the ground. Before he could push himself up she had a syringe in his arm. The plunger was pushed, with all of the contents flooding his system. She'd no more finished before he brought his arm back, striking her in the face with his elbow. The gun went flying. Frantically he searched for it with his eyes.

She recovered. They spotted his weapon at the same time. Both charged for it. She won the draw, picking it up and pressing it against his chest. "It ends here," she growled. "Move it. Downstairs."

At the moment he did what she demanded. But he knew he'd find a way out. She wouldn't keep him helpless as she did before. This time he'd fight back. The gun was pressed firmly between his shoulder blades as they marched down the stairs into the basement. Nearly half way down he felt himself get woozy. Oh no. The drugs.

On the last stair he nearly tumbled to the ground. He was able to make it a few more steps before he sunk down. Down onto his back he fell. In an instant she was on top of him. She pressed the barrel of the gun down on his chest, over his heart. "Hmm," she smiled. "Maybe I'll just keep you like this. Leave you in suspense, wondering when I'm going to pull the trigger. Put you out of your misery." She changed positions, pointing it at his temple. "The question is… where should the kill shot be?"

Booth was getting hazy. _I can't. If I pass out I'll never wake up again._ Her words were barely registering as he scrambled to think of a way to save himself.

"Or… maybe…" The gun moved down to underneath his chin as she abruptly kissed him. Though was happened next felt like eternity, it all took place within seconds. In one smooth motion Booth pulled the gun away from her grip and fired. Her eyes were wide open in shock as she slipped down onto the ground next to him. She hadn't had a chance in Hell. She was dead upon impact.

Booth felt like he was heading there himself. His hand fell down onto the floor. The gun slipped out of his grasp. He battled himself to keep his eyes open until he couldn't anymore. The world faded to black.

* * *

_In the chilly hours and minutes_

_Of uncertainty, I want to be_

_In the warm hold of your loving mind_

Brennan paced the lawn back and forth outside the house. Her worry was near tearing a hole in her stomach. The last hour had been a dizzying run around. She'd called Agent Riley, who had informed her there had been the sound of gunshots heard by Amanda's neighbors. They came to the conclusion that Booth had to be there. She'd raced from her apartment to the scene. Now she was left blaming herself as the stand off ended and FBI agents seized the house.

Why hadn't she stayed with Booth? Why had he sought Amanda out? Why had he gone alone instead of turning to the authorities, like he should have? And now, why wouldn't the police or FBI let her in to look for him? She was his partner, damn it. If anyone would be able to find him it would be her.

The last thought was irrational, she knew. Just because she was closer to him didn't mean she'd have an easier time than anyone else finding him. It just seemed right. Deeply she inhaled. Her hands were near shaking.

The crowd silenced as an agent called out, "there's at least two dead in here. Possibly three! We need paramedics!"

_To feel you all around m__e_

_And to take your hand, along the sand_

_Ah, but I may as well try and catch the wind_

A crew went rushing in. Brennan was knocked breathless. Three dead? Was one of them Booth? She _had _to get in there. Finally she threw good sense to the wind. Purposefully disregarding instructions she tore into the house before anyone could stop her.

She followed in the paramedic's footsteps. In the kitchen she came face to face with the dead agent. Her feet stopped dead. The man was being zipped up in a body bag. A small bit of blood stained the tile floor. It didn't appear to have come from him. Someone else had been injured.

"Aren't you-"

She turned away before the paramedic could finish his question. The basement. Last time Booth had been held captive he was in the basement. That had to be where she had him again. She had no trouble locating the door which had already been left partly open. Two by two she flew down the stairs. And on the landing, she was caught off guard for a second time.

Amanda was dead. Blood from a wound on her chest soaked into the ground. Her eyes were stuck permanently open. It looked like she couldn't believe after all that had happened someone had gotten her. Put her in her place.

_When rain has hung the leaves with tears_

_I want you near, to kill my fears_

_To help me to leave all my blues behind_

Brennan reluctantly turned her attention to Booth. He was lying on a stretcher. She could tell even from a distance that he was unconscious. An oxygen mask had been placed on his face. His breathing was choppy, with little, rapid snorts instead of full out inhaling. Which each breath his body shook, like the effort was too much. Paramedics had started an IV line going.

"What… happened…?" She gasped.

One of the paramedics turned to her. "M'am, you're not supposed to be in here."

Her eyes never left Booth's face. "I… I can't… he's…"

"He's in respiratory and cardiac distress. A hypodermic needle was found. We imagine he was injected with something. Right now we're just trying to stabilize him for transport."

Despite knowing she wasn't wanted Brennan didn't leave. She wasn't sure she could make her legs move even if she wanted to. The notion to move came only after Booth was taken upstairs. She trailed behind.

Outside they moved him into the back of an ambulance. Surprisingly, no one said a word as she climbed inside with them. Down on a bench she took a seat as though she belonged there. Tenderly she took Booth's hand into her own. "I'm here," she whispered in his ear. "Don't give up."

_For standin' in your heart_

_Is where I want to be, and I long to be_

_Ah, but I may as well, try and catch the wind_


	18. One Step At A Time

Author's Note: The brief lyrics "heard in Angela's car" are "Permanent" by David Cook. I heard it in my car the other day and just thought it was so fitting.

* * *

Though it most likely wasn't, the ride to the hospital felt excruciatingly long. And turbulent. Brennan swore she felt every single bump the bus rolled over. All she really wanted was to shut the world out and focus on Booth. But it was difficult. Her mind _wanted _to hear what the paramedics were discussing around her. Their infrequent updates to one another, and their driver, on Booth's condition were ones she tried to listen closely to. Not that they said much. With her there they seemed to be keeping to themselves.

She looked down at Booth. She stroked his hair away from his forehead as she squeezed his hand. "You shouldn't have done this alone," she mumbled to herself more than him.

Booth became conscious for the briefest of moments. He stared directly up at the ceiling with empty eyes. Underneath the oxygen mask he began to choke. His body tensed as his eyes closed once again.

"Booth?"

His frame rumbled, quivering before coming to a stop. His body went limp. Later Brennan would find out that this had been a small seizure. But at the time, she was scared to death. "What happened?" She cried frantically at one of the paramedics.

No one answered her. They messed with monitors. Played with wires connected to Booth's lifeless body.

"Tell me what happened!"

"We'll be pulling into the ER bay in a few," one of the paramedics responded.

Brennan wanted to punch the man out of frustration. She turned back to Booth, who's harsh breathing was indicating more and more just how truly dangerous of a situation he'd gotten himself into. Her heart sped up in fear. _Just a little farther. Hold on, Booth._

The ambulance parked in the back of the hospital. Booth's stretcher was taken out and rushed inside. Brennan went with it. The driver cut her off at the double doors leading into the emergency room. "This is as far as you can go."

"But," she stood on her tip toes and tried to see over his shoulder through the window in the door. "I'm his partner."

"You need to let the doctors do their work. Go sit in the waiting room and someone will be with you shortly. You could call some friends. Maybe his family."

Brennan looked as him as though he had three heads. Ordinarily she wasn't good with reading people's non verbal cues. But she could tell just by looking at his face that the paramedic didn't think Booth was going to make it. "He'll prove you wrong," she spit angrily before marching herself into the waiting room.

Hours passed. Brennan could barely stand the wait. She sat. She stood. She paced the length of the massive waiting area, dodging running children waiting with relatives, and the elderly in wheelchairs waiting to be seen by a doctor.

At last she spotted one of the paramedics who had ridden in the ambulance with them. He spoke to a doctor, pointing directly at Brennan. The doctor nodded, then strode over to her. "You're the party with Seeley Booth?"

"Yes. How is he? What happened to him?"

"Well, the bullet wound that skinned his arm required a few stitches. But I know that isn't what you'd like to know about." He paused. "What's your connection to him?"

"I'm his partner." _I'm his best friend. _"I've been taking care of him since this whole ordeal began. I assume you know about…"

The doctor nodded. "Yes. I was briefed of his… condition. During this attack he was injected with, from what's been identified in both his system and what was recovered from the needle at the scene, a fatal dose of benzodiazepines."

Brennan shut down. Fatal. He was barely hanging on during the ride over… "How is he doing?"

"He's in a coma. Right now everything is very touch and go. We've done what we can, and we're keeping him in intensive care."

"Can I see him?"

The doctor frowned. "I don't recommend it this evening. Go home and get some rest."

"But what if he wakes up? I need to be here." She persisted.

Compassionately, the doctor put a hand on her shoulder. "He won't be. Not tonight."

Brennan's eyes widened with startled tears. She managed to thank the doctor, though for what, she didn't know. She found the strength to get herself outside. Of course it was there she remembered she'd left her car back at Amanda's house. There were no cabs near by. And so she was at the mercy of a friend. She dialed Angela.

The woman was there in fifteen minutes. Her mouth popped out question after question as Brennan got in. "Hey, are you okay? What happened? I've been trying to call you all day. Why are you at the hospital?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Brennan muttered. "Drive. Please."

Angela knew something was going on. She knew not to pursue it until Brennan was ready. She drove in silence with nothing but the radio playing. Brennan had her attention focused on the scenery outside. A few strands from the song playing caught her ear.

_Will you think that you're all alone when no one's there to hold your hand? _

_When all you know seems so far away _

_And everything is temporary rest your head_

The tears, the emotion she'd been holding in came flooding out. Softly she cried. Those tears turning into uncharacteristically gulping sobs. Angela nearly put the car in a ditch. She'd never seen her friend so distraught, and it frightened her. "Sweetie? Please… what happened?"

"She got him again."

Angela just stared in shock.

"He killed her, but not before she over dosed him with sedatives."

"Oh, my God."

"His doctors are telling me he's only just surviving. I'm not allowed to see him. Not tonight." She wiped her eyes. "They've done all they can for him."

Angela pulled onto the side of the road. She hugged Brennan close.

"What if it's not enough?" Brennan worried.

"It will be."

"You can't know that. Maybe… maybe it's better this way."

"Sweetie."

"The brain is in a suspended state. He can't feel any pain."

"Brennan."

"He's finally getting the relief life wouldn't give him. That _I _couldn't give him."

"Hey, yes, you did. You gave him back a piece of himself. I don't think he would have gone as far as he did in his recovery if it weren't for you."

Brennan pulled away. "He isn't up to his full strength capacity. What if he can't…?" Her sentence broke off as her throat closed from the pain of what she was thinking.

"He will. One step at a time, sweetie."

_I'm permanent_


	19. Awake And Alive

_Booth collapsed down onto the ground. His back pressed down against a cold, stone floor. Blood seeped from a hole in his chest. In his hand he still held onto his gun, though with a much looser grip._

_Brennan fell down onto her knees besides him. "Booth?" She tried to tilt him on an incline to hold him in her arms. His head rolled until it nestled in the crook of her arm. His breathing was ragged. Already she could feel the life slipping out of him. "Come on," she whispered, nudging him._

_A silhouette fell over them. Amanda stood with her fists planted against her hips as she watched the scene play out before her. Her laugh was like nails on a chalkboard. "There's nothing you can do for him."_

"_Help me prove her wrong," she begged to Booth. Blood was everywhere. The sickening smell of it lingered in the air. She tried to ignore it as she watched over him. His eyes penetrated into hers. He was just barely keeping them open as the life within them faded. "Booth, please…"_

_He coughed, then gasped. Brennan held onto him tighter. After working so hard to get him back she couldn't lose him again. She wouldn't. This couldn't happen. Amanda couldn't win. In a fit of anger she tugged the gun away from Booth. Brennan aimed it defiantly at Amanda and pulled the trigger._

_Nothing happened. The trigger jammed._

_Amanda just laughed louder. "Just face it. You were too late to save him then, and you're too late to save him now."_

"_No!" Brennan cried. "Booth, come on! Just hold on!"_

_His eyes closed. She felt him draw in his last breath._

"M'am?"

Brennan snapped awake. She opened her eyes to see a young orderly standing in front of her.

"Sorry to wake you," he continued. "But visiting hours are over. You have to leave."

She shook her head to clear out the cobwebs. How long had she been out? Carefully she stretched her body as she rose from the chair she'd been sitting in. Her bones cracked with protest. Another day had passed. Another day in which Booth hadn't woken.

It'd been close to a month since he'd been brought into the hospital. He'd yet to wake from the deep coma he'd lost himself in. As the days turned into weeks his condition didn't improve. Though it didn't worsen any, either. It was as though he was taking his time trying to make a decision as to whether to return to the world or pass onto the next. Considering what he'd been through, and knowing his feelings on God, Brennan wouldn't have been surprised if he'd crossed over. But she tried to keep her thoughts objective. Angela had been working on optimism with her. Booth _would _wake up.

She looked over at him now. From the outside it appeared there was little wrong with him. A thick bandage protecting the healing bullet wound poked out from underneath the arm of his hospital gown. The areas around his eyes were a purple color. His skin itself was a frail papery gray color. He breathed in time with a machine instructing his body to do so.

Doctors couldn't explain Booth's steady condition. It was as if someone had put him on pause. He had brain activity, Brennan was assured. But there was no reason for the suspended state he'd found himself in. His body just wasn't repairing. Wasn't moving forward.

Brennan gently squeezed his hand. For the first week she'd been a constant fixture by his side. Once he'd been well enough to be removed from intensive care she'd stayed from the time visiting hours began until they ended. It wasn't too often she worked these days. And when she did, she put in her time before hurrying back to him.

As per usual, Booth gave no reaction. He slept on, blissfully oblivious to the world. Brennan shuddered as she recalled her nightmare. They'd started back up since the first night he'd been admitted. Every night he died a different way at the hands of Amanda. Night after night Brennan was forced to watch. More than once she'd woken herself up in a cold sweat.

Before leaving she pressed her forehead down against his. Her eyes were level with his eyelids. "Booth, come on," she under toned, echoing her dream. "Come back. She's gone. It's safe for you now."

But he didn't. For another two days he remained out of it. Brennan was losing steam. Her emotions were frayed, on the cusp and ready to tip at any time. Why was this so hard for him? Why wouldn't he just wake up?

She didn't know what to expect when he did. The night before she'd left with her usual promise of being back in the morning. All night she tossed and turned as her violent nightmares took a turn for a worse. In the morning she ended up sleeping in much later than she intended as she tried to recover some of that rest. Instead, she woke up feeling angry. Angry at Amanda. And angry with herself. The same questions continued to repeat themselves. Was this her fault? Could she have done more? If she'd never left Booth, not even for a moment, could she have saved them this strife? But if she had, Amanda would have still been after him. There just were no right or wrong answers. What was done was done. It was the aftermath that needed to be dealt with.

She showered, changed, and headed for the hospital. Before entering his room she bumped into his nurse in the hallway. "How was he last night?" Brennan asked anxiously. It was the same exchange the two had daily. "Any change?"

"No change, dear. Sorry."

Brennan hadn't been expecting anything different. She thanked the nurse in a dead voice. Then she slumped the rest of the way down the hall. Her heels clicked on the linoleum floor as she went inside his room. There in his doorway she stopped so fast she nearly tumbled over.

Booth was awake. He appeared as though he'd just woken. His eyes were open, but just part way. His stare was completely impassive. Straight ahead he stared intently at the wall.

"Booth!" Brennan buried the extreme emotion she was feeling. Any sudden movements, even joyous ones, were likely to startle him. If she were being true to her feelings, all she really wanted was to embrace him. She wanted to kiss him, and hold him close in her arms. But even on their best day together she wouldn't have let go of herself in that way. Then again, things had changed between them.

He turned his eyes to her.

She stooped over his bed. "Hi." She felt like laughing and crying at the same time.

He blinked at her. But it wasn't confusion. The wheels in his mind were already hard at work.

"Booth?"

"I killed her."

These were not the first words she imagined him saying. "Yes. You did." She agreed sadly.

"I had to." His voice was hard to listen to. His throat sounded as though it'd been scraped once again.

"I know. I'm glad you did."

"But she killed Myers."

Brennan had to turn her eyes away from his painful gaze. "Yes, she did, Booth."

"I was too late. She used him." He closed his eyes.

She wasn't sure what to say to that. She lovingly rubbed her hand on his arm, frowning deeply when she saw him freeze with what little strength he had. They were back to square one. "You can't change what she did. But you took back control. You made it end, Booth. And now she can't hurt anyone else."

He muttered something.

"What?"

Booth wouldn't repeat it. But Brennan was sure he said, "she's still hurting me."

* * *

A few days passed by. Booth stayed conscious. Gradually his stats began to improve. But not his mood. Brennan didn't know what was worse, the way he was before, desperate and suicidal, or now, in which he was so depressed he didn't care about much of anything. He was still greatly uncomfortable with anyone touching him, particularly women. It only took a day for Brennan to see how miserable he was.

And so she requested to take him home. To her surprise, his doctor agreed as long as Booth was checked daily.

Booth didn't do much better back at the apartment. He hardly said two words to her. Except for his daily trips to the doctor he didn't even spend much time around her. Then, suddenly, everything abruptly changed one afternoon.

Brennan had been taking a nap when she'd woken to pure stillness. She got up off the couch (she'd been making Booth sleep in her bed despite his protests of unfairness to her) and searched around. Booth wasn't anywhere in sight. Her pulse raced in panic. Oh no. Had something happened? She gasped. He couldn't have finally done something… could he?

She dressed quickly and left her apartment for the parking lot. If her car was still there then he couldn't be far. Unless he called a cab again…

Luckily, he was standing right outside on the front steps. A soft rain was pattering down on the earth. Booth was staying dry underneath the roof's overhang. He'd dressed in a pair of jeans and a shirt, a departure from his usual wardrobe lately.

"Booth?" Brennan asked hesitantly. She came up besides him. "Is everything okay? I couldn't find you and-"

He turned around. Something in his eyes broke her off. He took her hand and pulled her closer. She tried to keep herself from thinking. It was hard trying to keep up with him.

Booth closed the space between them. He kissed her gently, his touch affectionate. Though she was caught off guard she kissed back, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He whispered to her, "I'm through letting her have my life, Bones. I'm ready to get better."


	20. Losing Booth

His breathing gave him away. Just as it always did.

Brennan woke up to what sounded like a steam engine puffing next to her. She rolled onto her side, opening her eyes up tiredly. It was just past three in the morning. Her eyes switched from the digital alarm clock to the man sleeping besides her. Although he wasn't exactly sleeping.

Booth was laying on his back. He reacted to a nightmare that was wrecking its way through his slumber. As time passed his body cycled through his usual reactions. He'd stiffen his muscles before releasing and tensing all over again. Sporadically he shook. He shifted himself across the bed, invading Brennan's side. She had to hold out her hand to stop him from nearly pushing her off the bed.

It'd been a week since Booth had made his vow to get better. And yet, not much had changed. He'd reverted into holding everything in once again. Sometimes Brennan would be able to get him to talk to her, usually following a painful flash back or devastating nightmare. But even then she really had to pry. She hated feeling like she was bullying him. He'd sealed up like a vault.

She figured it was as Angela had said. This was Booth's way of protecting her from himself. From whatever dark thoughts and feelings had left their residual damage. And she knew there was still much darkness in him. She saw the way his eyes would suddenly change after staring blankly off into space. She saw it when he froze up after hearing a strange noise. But most of all, she saw it when he slept, when all his defenses were stripped away.

He pawed now at his chest with his fingers. Brennan didn't know what to make of his behavior. She never knew what to do. Wake him? Save him from his demons? Or leave him alone and let him ride it out?

She was still deciding when he yelled out. The emotion was much stronger, much harder hitting with his voice back. It still bothered her to wonder what Amanda had done to him, a grown man, to solicit such a scream out of him.

Booth pushed harder at his chest. He let out a terrible scream before waking himself up. He sat up fast. Gasping, he wrapped his arms protectively around himself and dropped his head. Uncontrollably he shook.

Brennan sat up with him. She touched his shoulder. Her fingertips had no more touched him before he went motionless. Frowning, she dropped her hand away. Instead she tried her voice. "What happened?"

He said nothing, just continued to pant.

"Booth, look at me."

He wouldn't. She knew how important eye contact was, especially with him.

"Please?"

In the dark she could see his wounded eyes bore into hers. He let her catch no more than a brief glimpse before he turned away once again. He continued to rub at his chest. She followed his motion with her eyes. The area he was concerned with wasn't over his heart. That couldn't of been what he was trying to get at. So why was he massaging his skin so aggressively?

"What happened?" She repeated. Pointedly she gestured to his hand. "Show me?"

Booth made no indication either way. Gradually he was getting his breath back.

Brennan turned on her bedside lamp. In the soft light she could see how ashen he'd become. Sweat covered his forehead. He still kept his head tilted away so she couldn't see his face.

Though she wasn't sure if it was a good idea she proceeded with her intention. Ever so carefully she reached for the hem on his shirt. He paused, but still wouldn't look at her. She lifted his shirt up over his body until she found the area he'd been concerned with. There she saw a wound buried deep within his skin. It appeared as though something sharp had pierced him. Not deep enough to kill him, but enough to stab. To leave a reddened injury that had never quite healed. "Booth," she breathed. She saw now for the first time all of the damage that had been left behind on his chest. It was too much to look at. She released her hold. "What did she do to you?"

His jaw clenched.

"You have to talk to me," she reminded him. It was the same thing she said every time he froze her out. "You're never going to get better if you don't."

When he spoke his voice was agonized. "She didn't get what she wanted. So she punished me for it. Then she took it anyway."

"What'd she-"

"That's all I'm saying about it."

Sex. She'd done everything she could to break him. And it'd worked. Maybe not right away, but as time went on a part of him had died. It infuriated Brennan all over again whenever she thought about it. She looked at him once again.

Booth seemed to have at last calmed down. His hand had dropped down to his side. He laid back down against his pillows. Brennan shut off the light and did the same. Yet neither one of them were able to fall back asleep. She could feel him still awake besides her. "Booth?"

"Hmm?"

"What are you thinking about?"

"You don't want to know."

His voice gave her the chills.

The rest of the night went on uneventfully. Brennan woke in the morning alone. An hour passed while she laid awake, thinking. She'd been so sure once Amanda had been removed from the equation that things for Booth would start to look up. And they had. He'd started off so determined to improve. To get his life back. Now it was becoming all too obvious that even in death she still had her hold on him.

In some aspects he was moving on. At last he'd been able to start eating solid foods. Weight was piling back on. Muscle was replacing itself.

But emotionally he'd stalled. He'd backed himself away from her and into a corner. _Protection. _What did that even mean? How could he think he was protecting her when he himself still needed saving?

All along she'd been resisting it. For him. She'd been trying her hardest. But now it was time to admit defeat. Others, professional doctors needed to be involved now. Her best way to help him was to admit she couldn't any longer. She'd taken him as far as she was able to go.

Booth was sitting at the kitchen table eating cereal when she left her bedroom. The television was on, but he was paying little interest. Though his attention seemed fixed straight ahead on the screen she could see in his expression he'd gone somewhere inside himself again. After a few minutes he snapped out of it. Dully he looked down at his bowl and took a bite of food. He saw her and managed a slight smile.

She smiled back at him. "How are you?" She noticed he'd made coffee. Pulling a mug from the cupboard, she poured herself some.

He shrugged an answer. Rising from his chair, he poured what was left of his breakfast into the sink.

Brennan moved on. "I thought maybe we should go out today."

He looked at her curiously.

"It's been a while since you've been out," she continued. "We could go for a drive. See our friends. Talk to Sweets."

Her relaxed attempt back fired. She'd no more said the words before Booth looked betrayed. His eyes flashed anger. "No. I know what you're trying to do."

"Booth-"

"I'm not talking about it, Bones!" His mood had changed in a heart beat. "Why can't you let this go?"

"Because you're sick! You're making yourself sick!" She shot back. "And you're getting worse. And I love you," slipped from her lips before she could stop herself.

They both knew she didn't just mean as friends.

Booth backed away from her. Backed down. That was when she knew she'd somehow violated him. It had logically seemed right, but she'd done something wrong. She thought back to the night of their "therapy." In helping him she'd felt something. And she knew he had too, beyond the obvious.

Had the physical intimacy between them been easier to handle then emotional intimacy?

The faced each other in a stand off. Neither one said a word. Minutes ticked by until Brennan's cell phone rang. Booth chose that moment to break the silence between them. "You can't love me, Bones. I won't let you." That being said, he locked himself up in her bedroom.

"Brennan." She was drained. It showed in her voice.

"Dr. Brennan, it's Cam. Are you able to come into the lab?"

She stared at her bedroom door. "Now?"

"It's impertinent that you do."

"I'll be right there." She hung up. Maybe if she left, gave them both some time to settle down she'd be able to try again later. Not love him. As if it were possible.

She headed down to work. For a few hours she was wrapped up looking into remains that had been brought into the institute. Brennan had never wished for her work to be done so fast. Work had always been the most important staple in her life. Now, all she wanted was to be with Booth.

She broke speed limits driving back home when at last her work was done. She walked inside to find herself enveloped in solitude. The apartment was empty.

Booth was gone.


	21. In Pieces

Booth stood on the curb. He stood solitary, just staring at the familiar dwelling in front of him. It still amazed him how one place could house so much evil. As the taxi he'd ridden in drove way he realized he was completely alone. Just the way he'd wanted it. He'd come here to face his demons. Perhaps face himself. Something here was going to die.

The whole property was sealed off. Though the police had conducted an investigation they'd left the house cordoned until further notice. Booth ignored all the yellow tape, the police warnings, and went directly to the front door. Since it was locked, he hopped off the stoop and tried the window leading into the living room. It also was closed off. And so he cranked his arm back and smashed his fist directly through the glass. The bright color of pain told him he'd just likely once again broken his hand. After all, he'd only _just _gotten the cast off. He pulled his arm back, wincing at all the blood that was oozing from his forearm as the broken glass cut at it. He managed to remove enough of the glass to safely let himself inside. And that he did.

The carpet was dirty. That was the first thing he noticed. The dozens of officers and paramedics traipsing in and out had left the floor a mess. Booth lingered a bit before moving on. This room carried no memories for him. It wasn't what he was after.

In the kitchen there was a bit of blood on the floor. His own.

_I should have killed you then. I never should have played around with you. You deserved a slow death._

Booth was numb to her voice by now. Daily it had increased in its abuse. Though he'd tried to fade it into the background he always heard it. The words still tore their way through his psyche. He was becoming sick enough to believe every word. But, of course, he didn't know this. Since being rescued this was just what his life had become.

He stood outside the door leading into the basement. Somewhere inside him, the man he used to be was scolding him that what he was doing was all wrong. He should have turned away. Gone outside, dialed another cab from his cell phone, and gone home to Brennan. That voice dimmed as he carelessly threw open the door and headed down the steps.

Along the wall he ran his hand. He searched for a light switch. He had yet to see the basement in the light. Towards the bottom of the steps his fingers brushed across the square nub. Immediately he turned it on.

A faint light flickered on all around him. Booth got off the last stair. He simply stood, drinking in everything around him. There was so much blood on the shiny concrete floor. He was a little surprised her torture hadn't killed him.

Around the room he did a canvass. He noticed a lot of items she'd used to inflict her abuse on him were missing. The police had no doubt seized them and taken them into evidence.

At the opposite end of the basement a pile of blankets laid haphazardly. Those too, had numerous blood stains on them.

"_Hold still!"_

_Booth twisted his hips as hard as he could. His efforts however, weren't very aggressive. He couldn't believe this petite woman was getting her way with him. Why wouldn't his arms work? Why did his body feel like lead? His mouth was dry. And he was sweating. It soaked his shirt._

_She pulled on the waist band of his pants. In doing so her fingers brushed across the skin on his stomach. The intense heat made her pull back. "What the…?" She whispered. _

_Booth winced as her hand traveled up his body to his forehead. His vision split. To him it appeared two hands were reaching out to touch him. He shivered, his teeth clicking together. He was surprised to feel comfort in the touch of her cool hand._

"_Great," she muttered darkly. She stood, kicking him hard in the side. She stomped out of the basement._

_The blow barely registered. _

_She came back with a syringe. With expert training she pressed the needle into his arm and injected. "If you think you can get away from me by dying," she dropped the needle. From the floor she retrieved a knife. "You got another thing coming."_

Booth collapsed onto the blankets. Down onto his side he stretched out. One by one hellish flash backs took control of his mind. He launched into a painful panic attack. Tears squeezed out from his eyes. Finally, his beaten body got the better of him. He passed out cold.

* * *

Brennan was going crazy with worry.

She looked for Booth everywhere she could think of. Discreetly she called Angela in the lab to see if he'd ended up there. She tried his old apartment. The diner. The bar. She even got so desperate as to call Rebecca. She'd done her best to try and not alert the woman that something terrible had happened. There was no telling if she was successful.

She was on the way back to her apartment, hoping he'd gone back there, when her phone rang. "Booth?"

"No, Dr. Brennan. This is Dr. Andrews from Washington Memorial Hospital."

All the air escaped from her lungs. No. It couldn't be. He couldn't have. "Yes?" Somehow she managed to find her voice.

"I was told to contact you. We have Agent Seeley Booth here-"

She didn't wait for him to finish his sentence. "Is he all right?"

"Physically, yes. But I recommend you come to the emergency room immediately."

"On my way." This was bad. But she had no idea how bad.

Within a half an hour she was parked and inside. Various medical staff directed her where to go. She walked through different ER stations until she found the area Booth was being held in. There was a desk at the entrance. Upon telling the nurse there who she was, the woman paged the doctor. Soon a tall man was briskly approaching her. "Dr. Brennan," he shook her hand politely.

"Can I see him?" Booth was all she cared about.

"Yes. I just feel you should know of his condition first."

Brennan nodded for him to continue. She braced herself.

"A passing police car noticed someone had broken into the house that the incident with Amanda Wiles had occurred in. They've been stepping up patrol in the area since apparently children have thought it's fun to be vandalizing the property. They went inside and found Agent Booth in the basement, awake but unresponsive."

Brennan gasped. A strong trauma gripped her chest. What had he been thinking? What had been his intentions? It was more than she could comprehend.

"He's been alert since he's been brought here. He's spoken some to us. He actually was the one who told us to call you."

She bit her lip and nodded.

"I have to be honest with you, doctor. It's my recommendation that he be committed."

An unexpected tear fell. Hastily she swatted at it. "He's that bad?"

"His mental state is very fragile."

More tears burned her eyes. "If it's your recommendation… then legally you have to keep him, right?"

"Well, no. He's made no threats against his own life. Though there are some suspicious wounds on him."

"Then why are you telling me?"

"Because its my hope that you can convince him. He's a sick man."

"He's been through a lot."

"So I understand."

"May I see him now?"

"Right this way."

The doctor led her to an area enclosed by a curtain. He peeled it back slightly and let her inside. No more than two steps and she stopped dead. Now she saw the reason for the doctor's concern.

Booth was sitting up in his hospital bed. His hand had a brand new cast over it, and gauze wound up his arm like a snake. He was as pale as a ghost. But it was his eyes that scared her the most. His eyes that revealed everything to her. Booth simply had nothing left to give. He really was dying.

She went straight to his side. He stared at her. She pulled him tightly into her arms. Shockingly, he affectionately squeezed her back. His head fell down onto her shoulder. _You have to let me love you, Booth. You need it. _"They want to keep you here," she told him.

Booth nodded a little.

"I think they should."

He looked at her mutely with a puzzled expression.

This was it. Last chance ultimatum. "I can't take care of you, Booth. You're not letting me. You're not trying. You're killing yourself," she sniffed. "I can't just let that happen. If you're safe here then that's the best option for you right now."

He looked pained.

She pushed on. "If I take you home, then you have to start trying to overcome this. No more running. You have to let me in, Booth. I don't need protecting. You've always been there for me. Now let me help you." She held onto his good hand. "I love you," she reiterated. It was hard to say without it being persuaded out of her. But she felt he needed to hear it. He needed to know he was loved.

Unlike the last time she'd spoken those words, Booth looked like an innocent child. He looked down at their joined hands. "Okay," he agreed in an unsure voice.


	22. First Cut Is The Deepest

Booth was subdued on the ride home. He looked at Brennan periodically with anguish. Otherwise he kept to himself. Brennan didn't push him. She wouldn't ask what was on his mind. There would be a time and a place for that. But for now he needed to rest.

Soon as they were in the door she encouraged him to take a shower.

"Why?" He wondered.

"You need to relax. I can see how tightly clenched your-"

He put up a hand. "All right." In all honesty he was too tired to attempt to think for himself anyway. Off to the shower he headed. Brennan took herself into the kitchen. From the cupboards she pulled out ingredients. Then she got to work.

Sometime later he emerged. His hair was still damp. But he'd changed into what he considered pajamas. Brennan was standing over the kitchen table. She poured hot water from a teapot into a mug with contents he'd never seen before. He stood just besides her, still and waiting.

She grabbed a spoon and swirled around the water. Then she handed it to him. "Drink."

He sniffed it. His eyes watered from the strong smell. "What is this?"

"It's a drink I learned from the locals while I was staying in Costa Rica. The special spice in it is a calming agent."

Whatever. He took a sip. It tasted just as bad as it smelled. He was unable to keep himself from making a face.

Brennan smiled a little. "I promise. It will help."

He trusted her enough to keep drinking. But he couldn't finish it. He'd no more poured the rest out into the sink before she put two white pills into his hand. He looked down at them, then at her warily.

"They're not sedatives. They're not even prescription. They're natural. "

"Bones-"

"You need to sleep, Booth. You need _real _sleep, without nightmares. You haven't slept well since…" She didn't need to say the rest.

His reluctance was still obvious.

She crossed into his personal space. Gently she touched his arm. She did her best to ignore his reaction. "It's safe."

Those words had come to mean something of great importance between them. Down he looked again at his palm. He washed both down with a swig of water from the kitchen faucet. Together they then sat on the couch to watch television. Brennan hoped it would help him to unwind further. Through the channels she searched for the most boring program. The best she could find was golf. He raised an eyebrow at her, but said nothing.

She was pleased to notice he was sitting much closer to her than he had throughout this whole ordeal. Within an hour his eyes were heavy with sleep. The tenseness he carried through his shoulders softened. Brennan urged him up. He was slow in moving. She had to guide him to her bedroom. He was nearly asleep before his head hit the pillow.

Sleep controlled him for the next day and a half. Brennan let him go, assured that he likely needed it. At night she slept on the living room couch in order to give him room to move. From time to time she checked on him. She'd sit and watch over him. Tentatively she rubbed his back. He never moved a muscle. Either he didn't dream, like she'd hoped, or his dreams were pleasant. Either way, she was relieved that he didn't stir. He got the rest he really needed.

It seemed to make all the difference. When at last he woke he found himself alone. He blinked as though he were waking up for the first time in years. In a way that was exactly what it felt like. He didn't know where he was. What day it was. What time. He rolled over onto his back. It all came back to him in pieces. For a while longer he laid, just pondering different thoughts that came to him. It was when his stomach growled that he decided it was time to get up. He pushed himself up, wincing with pain before remembering his broken hand and cut up arm.

His joints were stiff. He limped his way out from the bedroom. Brennan was once again sitting at her table in the kitchen. She had her laptop open in front of her, and her fingers moved rapidly across the keys. Booth just stood and watched her. His felt his heart swell. He'd put her through so much.

She could feel his eyes on her. She pulled away and looked at him. "Hi."

He half smiled at her.

"Feel rested?"

"Yeah." His voice cracked. After not using it for a bit it'd gotten rough again. He cleared his throat. "Did the hospital send me home with any pain pills?"

"Sure." She rose.

His stomach protested loudly again. Brennan paused in surprise. "Hungry?"

He nodded.

"Go sit."

That he did.

She joined him a while later with a bowl of macaroni and cheese, a glass of juice, and a prescription bottle. Booth dug in like he hadn't in days. Then again, he _hadn't. _He still wasn't able to finish the portion. But he ate more than he ever had since he'd started staying with her. When he was done he swallowed the two pills she presented him. He assisted her with cleaning up the mess he'd made. He didn't say much. She wasn't sure she expected him to. But she could see he was thinking. It wouldn't be long until the pain killers kicked in and he'd be drowsy once again. This sleep wouldn't be the same kind, however. That worried her.

Booth sat down on the couch while she put the few dishes he used away. He sighed, watching her critically.

"What?"

He gestured for her to sit down next to him.

Curiously, she did.

Booth wouldn't look at her. When he spoke, his words were strained, and it wasn't from his throat injury. "There was a knock on my door that night." That night. _The _night. "I hadn't been home long. I didn't even think to check before answering it. I was sure it was you. Who else would it be that late at night? I opened and this woman stood there. She said something to me. I think she asked who I was. Then she hit me right in the chest with a stun gun. She hit me with enough power to knock me down. Disable me. But not enough to completely knock me out. She wanted it that way. I think she wanted to take some aggression out on me before she even abducted me. I tried to fight back. I did." He insisted. "It wasn't until she stunned the back of my neck as I was trying to crawl away from her that she got me."

Brennan remembered all the blood. The smell. She abruptly exhaled out the air in her lungs.

"I don't know what happened next. I remember being confined in a dark, closed in space. I think it was the trunk of her car."

She was shocked. Booth was awful big to be crammed into the small space of a trunk. She couldn't begin to imagine.

"I woke up again in that damn basement. It was dark. I never saw light, real light, again until I escaped. She stabbed me right in between the ribs. It wasn't deep. But I bled a lot. From then on after that she started sedating me. The… other abuse… didn't start until four months ago." His words ended with a stressful gasp. He squeezed his eyes closed tightly. "I'm trying."

"I know." Brennan held his hand. "You're doing good."

"But I'm not, Bones." He shook his head. "I feel like I'm living on borrowed time. I should have died down in that basement." His voice softened as he admitted, "I still wish I had."

"Booth." She clutched his hand.

"I can't blame this on the drugs anymore, Bones. This is just me."

"You've been through something very traumatic." She argued.

"I don't want to just "live through this."

"You survived because you're a strong person. Use that strength to recover."

He under toned, "I just want the pain to stop."

Unable to help herself, she tugged him fiercely close to her and held on. She tried to keep herself from crying. Instead she held onto her hope just as tightly as she held onto Booth. Through the darkness was a light. Booth's strife was far from over. In all reality she still risked losing him forever. But he also was finally _talking. _He'd taken the first painful step into getting to the other side. And she had confidence he'd get there.


	23. Scars

That night the two lay in bed together, trying to sleep. Brennan couldn't stop thinking about Booth. The imaginary horrors of what he'd described to her wound around her head in a loop. He needed to talk. To be pushed. It was the only way he'd be able to get through this. Leaving it inside would tear a hole in his heart. Could possibly result in the end of his life. But she couldn't help but to wonder if _she _was able to handle it. Tears unexpectedly fell from her eyes. She swatted at them. She didn't all out sob, but she couldn't help her breathing. It sped up from the pain she felt.

"Bones?"

She rolled over on her side to find herself face to face with him. The anger he'd been carrying in his eyes vanished when he saw her. "Bones, what is it?"

She shook her head.

"C'mon. You're the one who keeps telling me to talk."

He was right, and she hated it. "I just keep thinking about you. Her. What she did to you. I should have been able to do something."

"Like what? There's nothing you could have done."

"If I searched harder… or gone home with you that night."

He scrunched up his face. "Why would you have gone home with me?"

She was growing flustered. "I don't know!"

To her amazement he reached out wiped her tears with his thumb. "There wasn't anything you could do. You can't blame yourself for what happened to me."

Brennan couldn't stop. His reassurance was actually bothering her. She should have been reassuring _him_, not the other way around. Her tears fell faster.

Booth gathered her up in his arms. He laid down on his back and held her close to him. While she cried quietly into the fabric of his shirt he stroked her hair. Being in control didn't frighten him. He wasn't afraid of her touch. She noticed. At last she lifted her chin.

Their heads were mere inches apart. In the dark their eyes connected. A heat passed between them. It seemed as though neither one made a decision. Simultaneously their mouths met in a sweet, tender kiss. Booth wrapped his arms around her, pulling her even closer to him.

Neither of them wanted the moment to end. And it didn't. Not right away. Their kiss turned into another one. And then another one, until their tongues were intertwined as they kissed eagerly at each other. Soon Booth flipped her gently onto her back. He perched himself over her, being careful not to crush her with the bit of weight and muscle he'd put back on. He kissed down the length of her neck. Effortlessly he slipped his hand underneath her shirt. His warm hand ran over the smooth, soft skin of her chest. Hearing her sigh, he removed his hand and traced his movements with his mouth.

Brennan shut her eyes. She savored the feel of him. His touch. His taste. She fell deeper in love with him, and for the first time she could feel his in return. Unconsciously she moaned and sighed. He kissed the rest of the way down her body. She knew exactly where he was heading. She braced herself with anticipation. Then, suddenly, a switch was flicked. What was she doing? They couldn't do this. Booth was still recovering. From sex abuse, no less. There was no saying what this would do to him.

Momentarily he distracted her as his lips reached her hips. Again she groaned out loud. _Get a hold of yourself! _She chided herself. If she didn't stop him now it would be impossible for her to.

She pulled him back up to her level. He mistook her intentions. He kissed her again. She put her hands on his chest. "Booth," she said in between kisses. "We." Kiss. "Have." Kiss. "To stop." Kiss.

Immediately he stopped, still supporting himself over her. "Why?"

"You can't handle this."

"Yes, I can." He kissed her neck again.

To prove her point she touched him underneath his shirt. She moved her hand down his back, frowning at the sharp feel of the bones in his spine.

He paused his actions.

When her hand reached his hip he began trembling terribly.

_Nails dug firmly into the skin on his hips. He was forced inside._

Booth fell down besides her onto the bed. His shaking had gotten worse.

"See? We can't."

He said nothing, but she could feel the anger radiating off of him. "I'm sorry." She tried to apologize. "Please don't be mad."

"I'm not mad at you," he laughed in a dark voice. She watched helplessly as he left the bedroom.

* * *

Brennan woke up alone in the morning. She emerged from her bedroom to find Booth laying on the couch. He didn't notice her; his eyes were completely blank. He'd gone into his own head space again. _Damn it. _She sighed. Deciding to leave him be she started making breakfast.

Booth was despondent to her all morning. He didn't eat. He didn't talk much. He'd sunk down low into a world that he wasn't giving her access to. He rebuffed all her attempts to try and coax his problems out of him. After she happened to notice suspicious cuts on his arm did she lock herself in her bedroom. She called and arranged for him to meet with Sweets.

Dr. Sweets had been their FBI appointed therapist for quite some time now. Though they'd both blown him off in the beginning, the young man had proven himself, his brilliance, time and time again.

Booth, however, wasn't buying it this time. "I'm not talking to a kid about my problems in the bedroom," he hissed at Brennan.

"That isn't your problem, Booth. Don't pretend otherwise."

That was how Booth found himself in Sweets' office. He'd been standing back by the door for a good five minutes without moving. His arms were crossed. His eyes were looking everywhere but at the young doctor. Why wouldn't Brennan listen to him? He didn't want to be here. He'd made it clear. Well, she could turn him over to Sweets. But neither of them could force him to talk. "I'm not talking," he said, sounding like a child.

"Okay. Do you want to at least have a seat?" Sweets gestured to the couch in front of his chair.

Booth didn't, but he did anyway. He reclined back in his seat. The two simply stared at one another. It irritated Booth to no end. Sweets knew this. It was a technique he used into getting Booth to talk.

Booth sat up. "How long are you going to keep me here?"

"If I know Dr. Brennan, until you talk."

Booth exhaled disgustedly. "What's there to talk about?"

"Well, your suicidal tendencies, for one thing." Sweets gestured to the cuts on his wrist.

Booth moved it out of view.

"Have you thought of suicide?"

He said nothing.

"How you would do it?"

If he was going to prod, then Booth would push right back. "Pills. Gun. I don't know."

"Mmhmm." Sweets leaned forward. "And you don't think in by doing that you'd just be giving Amanda back control?"

"I don't care. I don't understand why I'm still alive."

"What about your beliefs in God? Don't you think he kept you alive for a purpose?"

Booth rubbed his chest where his St. Christopher medal used to be. She'd stripped him of it during the abduction. "I don't know what my beliefs are anymore."

"You have a strong support system, Booth, of people looking to help you."

"I talked to Bones. All I did was scare her. I'm not doing it again. I'm not putting her through what I already went through."

"She already did. Every day you were missing."

Booth shook his head. He slumped down.

"And how do you think she's going to feel if you do something foolish?"

The realization hit him hard. "I didn't ask to be rescued," he muttered lamely in a last ditch attempt at an excuse.

"But you were. Your friends want to help you."

"No one can help me." He stood. "I'm finished." He didn't give Sweets much of a chance to say anything else as he walked out. His heart was already cringing in pain. It throbbed in time to the beat of pain in his wrist. There was no waiting anymore. He had to do it _tonight. _

Brennan was waiting out in the lobby for him. He strode by her, still angry at her for forcing the issue. She trailed him out to the car.

The car was filled with silence. Booth refused to look at her. He leaned his head on the glass window. When his mind asked to take over he let himself go, gazing off into space.

_I told you it's your only way out. You'll never escape me. The pain will never end._

"Booth?"

He snapped out of it. They were sitting in her driveway. Brennan was leaning over in her seat, watching him. He used the dashboard to push himself up.

"I have something for you." She reached into her pocket. Out she pulled his St. Christopher medal. "Forensics found it among the items they retrieved from the house. I went to claim it while you were in with Sweets."

He accepted it from her. He ran his thumb over it. There was a bit of blood in the creases. "Thanks."

They headed inside. Booth wondered if it was a coincidence that his medal was returned to him after questioning his faith. Sweets' words echoed in his mind. _"How do you think she's going to feel if you do something foolish?" _Again he winced at his silent pain. _She could move on with her life, instead of wasting her time and energy on you. _Booth put his head in his hands. That night was to be his D-day. Decide to live. Or decide to move on.


	24. Shattered Not Too Late

Author's Note: I have to admit I'm a little nervous posting this. Be advised, it deals with a very serious topic. This is intended for adult audiences.

* * *

The rest of the day Booth barely talked to Brennan. In fact, he didn't spend much time around her. Where ever she was, he wasn't. If she tried to approach him he turned away. It was heart crushing, but she figured he needed space, and gave it to him. He was obviously angry, and she needed to just let him sort it out.

It wasn't so much that Booth was mad. His mind was occupied with planning. Thinking. Could he really carry on like this? Was there any point in continuing to try? Wouldn't those in his life be better off without him? Day by day he could see what a drain he was on Brennan. He could see how his pain was transferring onto her. He didn't want that. She didn't deserve it. The truth was she deserved much better than he was able to give. The person who used to be her partner seemed so far out of his grasp.

It bothered him, the night they _should have _shared. It bothered him that he couldn't even handle Brennan's intimate touch. That a touch made of nothing but love still sent him shivering in a panic. Amanda had managed to take something that should have been wonderful for himself and Brennan. There was no saying if he'd ever get that back. There was no saying if anyone would ever be able to touch him again.

Then there was his son. Being with his son reminded him that there was still innocence in the world. Innocence that didn't need to be tainted by his father's problems. That day they'd played together happily outside, Booth had never really relaxed. Just being out in the open raised the flag of paranoia in his brain. It didn't go away. Not even now, after Amanda's death. He just couldn't see any way for him to be a decent father again. Certainly not the kind his son should have. Booth wanted nothing but the best for Parker. That no longer was him.

They'd be upset after he was gone. Possibly angry. He didn't doubt that. But in time they'd see what he'd done was for the better. For their sake he needed to exit out of their lives. For their own protection. The sooner he was gone the faster they could get to moving on.

Perhaps eventually they'd even realize the amount of pain he was in. Back breaking, soul crushing pain that just wasn't letting up. It sat like a rock on his chest, making it difficult for him to breathe. The anger was like hot lava flowing through his veins. No matter how much therapy, no matter how much talking, he was convinced nothing would save him. He was finished. There was nothing anyone could do.

In the late evening hours he allowed himself to sit near Brennan in the living room. He kept himself on the same couch as her but as far away as possible.

From time to time she snuck a look at him. All evening Booth was completely blank. He stared vacantly down at the floor for what seemed like hours. Finally Brennan got worried. "Booth?" She rubbed his shoulder.

He was slow to come out of it. He looked at her expectantly. There was something amiss in his eyes. Something she couldn't quite figure out. "Are you all right?"

Booth cleared his throat. "Are you going to bed soon?"

It was the first sentence he'd said in hours. "Most likely." Her voice softened. "Are you coming?"

He'd fallen back into his trance.

"Booth!" She rubbed him harder.

He shook his head. "What?"

She pulled back, startled at his sharp tone. "You keep…" She didn't know how to describe the state he kept going into. "You're catatonic!" She sputtered.

He didn't say anything.

She took it to mean she'd be sleeping alone. She looked on sadly as he retreated within himself again. Something was wrong. More so than ever. Five minutes passed before she turned the television off. Up from the couch she rose. "I'm going to bed," she announced loudly.

He blinked at her.

"I think you should come with me." She added.

Booth straightened. "You go ahead."

She tilted her head, giving him a pleading look. For a brief moment she could see his resolve start to slip. Then he hardened back up again. "No. Really. Just go to bed, Bones." His cold voice gave her goosebumps. "I'm not tired yet."

No matter how hard she fought he wasn't willing to let her win this battle. Dejectedly she said goodnight. Purposefully she left the bedroom door open to listen out for him. When she needed to she could be a light sleeper.

Then again, Booth was a sniper. He knew how to move without being detected. He waited her out, until he was positive she was asleep. Then he got to work. Through her apartment he tip toed. He dug around until he found his gun in the new spot she had hidden it. This was it. All around him he turned the lights out. In his lungs he sucked in a deep breath.

But wait. No. He couldn't do that to her. Not in her own apartment. The memories, the guilt he was leaving her with would be bad enough. Her last memory of him shouldn't have been in her own apartment. How could she stand to live there if the thought of him dead on the floor crossed her mind every time she stepped inside? On top of that, she'd have to live with the knowledge that she'd been no more than a room away while he'd been dying. He wouldn't do it to her.

But where to go? An idea struck him. The perfect idea. Before leaving he switched a light back on. Stealthily he made his way to the door. He hesitated with his hand on the door knob. _This is for the best. No one has to suffer anymore. _Opening it, he slipped out into the night.

* * *

Brennan heard the door close. She was up instantly. "Booth?" She called, walking into the living room. No one answered her. A light had been left on. Otherwise everything was still.

On her desk she noticed a letter had been propped up against her pen cup. A sick sensation traveled from her head to her chest as she snatched it up. Reading the first few lines, her worst nightmare had come true. "Booth!" Throwing a coat on over her nightgown, she grabbed her keys and flew out the door. He had a head start on her. But she was positive she knew where he was headed.

* * *

Booth broke into Amanda's house for the second time. This time, it was simple. He was able to kick in the board covering the window he'd already broken. Methodically he hurried down into the basement. Outside a hard, soaking rain began to pour. Lightning lit up the world like a spotlight.

He rushed off the last stair. Quickly he took himself to the spot where Amanda had kept him restrained. His back leaned against the wall. Slowly he sank down onto the floor with his knees jammed up to his chest. From his pocket he pulled the gun out. He held it protectively in his hand.

"_Don't you see? No one cares about you. No one has come looking for you." She finished snapping the other hand cuff onto his wrist. "They've all forgotten about you. If you died, it wouldn't matter. Your existence is worth nothing. You are nothing but a waste." She came at him, reaching for what she had already taken so many times._

_The sedatives hadn't completely kicked in yet. He managed to lift his knees and kick her hard. She was unprepared for the blow. Backwards she fell. She fell straight into the wall, her head making contact. It wasn't enough to knock her out. Instead, she was enraged. "Oh. Now, you are going to _really _wish you hadn't done that."_

Booth was breathing hard. His shoulders heaved. His grip on his weapon tightened. _I can't live like this. With this. _He thought of his son. Of Brennan. _I'm so sorry. _His hands shook as he raised the gun to his head.

* * *

Brennan sped down the street recklessly in the blinding rain. She knew by the open window that Booth was there, just as she had suspected. She barely threw the car in park before she tore out of it. Like a conditioned athlete she leapt in through the empty frame. "Booth?" The basement. Police had recovered him there before. That had to be where he was.

"Booth!" She took the stairs two by two. Just as she reached the bottom lightning flashed in through the small window. It lit up the entire basement. Brennan caught the briefest glimpse of Booth. Before she could cry out to him thunder exploded around them. It almost muffled the noise of the gun going off. _Almost._

Brennan was frozen. She couldn't scream. She couldn't cry. She couldn't quite believe what she'd just experienced. It was only by the grace of God that she was able to find the light switch. Apparently no had turned the electricity off in the house yet. The lights revealed the truth. Booth was unharmed.

He had a red cut on his forehead. Both Brennan and the thunder had startled him. His aim had been off, leaving the bullet to thankfully just skim him. The gun was next to him on the floor. He looked more devastated, more fearful than she'd ever seen. When he raised his eyes to hers, she lost herself. Heart in her throat she fell to her knees in front of him. Tightly she pulled him into her arms.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, before finally having the break down he'd been needing to have all along. He sobbed into her shoulder as she held him.

"We're going to get you help," she under toned back. "I love you. I'm not letting you give up."


	25. The Danger Isn't Over

The next few days were pure Hell for Brennan.

Any time she was separated from Booth, it was difficult. But knowing the reason for their separation this time made it even harder.

From the house she drove him straight to the hospital. He was admitted at once. They shared a tearful goodbye where he'd surprised her by kissing her before he went. Then he disappeared with doctors who were much more advanced; who could provide much better care than Brennan ever could. She'd taken him as far as she could. Now she had to let go and trust the hands he was taken into.

For a few days she wasn't allowed to see him. Doctors' orders. And when she was permitted, he didn't want to see her. She tried not to take it personal. She knew he was upset, and likely angry with her. But it still stung her deep down in her chest.

"Sweetie? Are you okay?" Angela asked one afternoon as they sat together in Brennan's office eating lunch. "You haven't touched your salad."

"I'm not all that hungry." She pushed it away. _Booth would make me eat._

Angela sighed. "This is because of Booth, isn't it?"

The Squints knew Booth was in the hospital. But only Angela knew the extent of it. Of what he'd done.

"He doesn't want to see me," Brennan agreed in a small voice.

"I don't think it's you, hun. I think it's everyone."

"I let him down. I should have done more to help him."

"Sweetie, sometimes loving someone is admitting you can't help them. The ultimate act of love is getting them help they need."

Brennan blinked tears. "I feel like I did something wrong."

Angela shook her head, not comprehending. "How so?"

"What if," she could barely speak the words. "What if I'd been too late, Ange? What if I'd lost him?"

Angela embraced her as she began sobbing. "You made it. That's all that matters."

Booth hadn't improved much. Even if she didn't see him his doctors reported his condition to her. Because of their close relationship she would eventually be involved in his treatment. She knew he was miserable in the hospital. His sleep patterns were erratic. Nightmares were tearing him apart now that he was away from her. He resisted the doctors' attempts to medicate him with sleeping pills. He turned down all medicines in general. He rebuked therapy. No one knew quite what to do with him.

In her dreams he called to her for help. When she tried to get to him he took off running away from her. He'd run until he'd completely disappear from her world. More than once she woke up sweating profusely.

She attempted to see him again one afternoon only to be again turned down by his doctor. "I'm sorry, Dr. Brennan."

"He doesn't want to see me?"

"No. He's asleep."

"Can't I please just go into his room?" She was asking a lot, and she knew it. "I won't wake him. I just need to see him."

"It's against hospital rules."

Brennan stared through tears down at the floor. "I understand."

The doctor relented. "Which is why you won't tell anyone I allowed this if they ask." He moved to let her inside.

Brennan was so grateful she could have kissed the man. If she did that sort of thing. Thanking him, she listened closely as he directed her to Booth's room. Then she rushed through the carpeted hall of the mental health unit until she found Booth's door. Inside she padded softly.

Booth was indeed asleep. He was laying down on his stomach with an arm draped over the side of the bed. Before even reaching him she could hear from his raspy breathing that he was trapped in the throes of another nightmare. He gasped hard. His hands were pulled into tight fists. His nails dug indents into his palm. His face was twisted up in infuriated horror. Sweat was near dripping off his forehead.

Brennan knelt down besides him. She wanted to touch him so badly. But she wasn't even supposed to be visiting him, let alone interacting. It was hard to stand by and listen to his nightmare get worse and worse without being able to do anything. He sounded congested, which struck her as odd. Finally he emitted a strange noise before coming to. He laid still except for the frantic movements of his breathing. His dull eyes took her in and softened.

"I'm sorry. I know you don't want to see me." She started.

He shook his head. "It's not that, Bones."

"Then why?"

"I'm too ashamed to see you after what I did."

"You shouldn't be." She argued. "You're sick, Booth. You can't help it."

"I don't want to be sick." His slurred words worried her. "I don't want to be here." He tiredly closed his eyes.

She wondered when he'd last slept longer than an hour. His appearance suggested he was hardly sleeping at all. "I know. But you have to be. You tried to kill yourself." Her eyes went to the bandage on his forehead. "They aren't going to just let you out. You have to work for it."

"I'm so tired."

He didn't just mean exhaustion, and she knew it. "Let them help you. Stop doing this to yourself."

"Can't."

"Why not?"

"They want me to talk about it." Talking with Brennan about his experiences was one thing. But talking with complete strangers about it frightened him. Talking about it made him relive it. And even in the safety of the hospital he wasn't so sure he could survive it. The idea of letting go frightened him down to the very core. He'd rather be dead than speak of it, which of course was how he'd ended up in the hospital in the first place. "Please," he looked at her with those eyes. "Just take me home, Bones."

It would have been so easy to give into his plea. But she resisted. "That doesn't work, Booth. I'm not going to risk losing you."

Booth was only half with her. He was suddenly trembling from head to toe.

"Booth?"

_Booth couldn't stop shaking. He couldn't get warm. His teeth chattered. Goosebumps ran up and down his sweaty arms and legs. The blankets she'd given him to sleep on were balled together. He tried to bury himself in the middle of the pile. Constantly he sniffed as his nose ran constantly._

_Upstairs the door opened and closed. Footsteps led down the stairs until they stopped in front of him. There was no movement. Just watchful eagle eyes._

_Booth coughed, his chest rattling with the sound. _

"_What did you do now?"_

_He was too sick to care what she had to say. His fever was pushing the limit. "Bones," he cried for her. He was so delirious he could see her face clearly in front of him. She was speaking, but he couldn't make out the words. "Bones," he moaned again. "Can't understand you."_

"_What's wrong with you?"_

"_Help me. Please. I need…" his voice died down._

"_I know exactly what you need. And it ain't help."_

Brennan brushed her fingers through his hair. She could feel the heat from his scalp. Carefully she touched his forehead, his cheeks. He was running a fever.

She sat back. Slurred words. Fever. As she leaned forward again she noticed a needle mark on his arm. A fresh one, and one that was not anywhere where an IV should have been placed.

All along she'd always thought that he'd never survive in the hospital; that he was hell bent enough on self destruction that he'd find a way to end his life. That was one of the reasons she'd resisted admitting him for so long.

It was possible he just had a fever. His body had been ravaged enough that his natural defense system was compromised. But what if it wasn't? What if he'd done something to himself? Or, she was afraid to think it. What if someone had done something to him? It was unlikely, but not out of the realm of possibility. For all they knew Amanda had more family out there somewhere in the world.

Regardless of whatever was the truth, she left Booth to seek out his doctor.


	26. Taking A Chance

As it turned out, it _had _been Booth who had made himself ill.

Doctors poured over him. Blood tests showed a dangerously high level of chemicals in his system. Drugs. _Sedatives_. "I assure you, Dr. Brennan," his doctor tried to restore her confidence her in a uptight voice. "All of our medicines are locked up. You need a key to access the cabinet. There's no way he would have been able to break into it."

The amount wasn't enough to kill him. Though he'd been resisting the doctors' suggestions regarding medicine it was clear he'd attempted to self medicate. Or at last have a successful attempt at killing himself. No one knew how he had been able to do it. Booth wasn't talking, either. When he was able to comprehend those around him he didn't speak. The rest of the time his fever kept him in a daze.

By his side Brennan sat with him diligently. She tried to keep her strong emotions in check. But deep down, she was _pissed. _She'd brought him to the hospital to keep him safe. They hadn't kept their end of the bargain. Granted, Booth was smart. Brennan had never realized just how crafty he was until this whole ordeal. But still, they should have been able to do more to protect him from himself. It was becoming increasingly obvious that the hospital wasn't a solution for him, either.

Once he recovered there was talk of placing him in maximum security. Brennan didn't know what that meant, but she didn't like the sound of it. Vividly she pictured a padded room with no lights. Booth was barely functioning now. High security or no, if he was put in those conditions he'd die, and likely without any use of outside influences.

While she contemplated his future he woke for a brief period of time. She snapped out of her thoughts when she felt his eyes on her. "Booth." She cupped his cheek. Either he was at last letting her love him, or he was just too sick to notice. But he didn't shy away from her. In fact, he leaned into her touch. His eyes half closed.

"I don't know what to do with you," she whispered to him. "I don't know how to help you anymore."

"Take me home," he slurred in a soft voice.

She shook her head. "We've already established that that doesn't work for you. I can't keep you safe from yourself."

"Take me home," he begged again. "_Please, _Bones."

She said no more. She waited for him to drift back off before she picked up thinking where she'd left off. He didn't want to be in the hospital. But he couldn't come home, either. If there was a compromise she couldn't find it. Until the idea suddenly struck her.

Despite his downturn Booth had done the best when he'd been with her. But she hadn't been able to keep him safe in the world around them full of distractions and reminders. So what if she could take him somewhere secluded? Somewhere where it would be just the two of them? Excited, she sprang up from her seat. Out in the hallway she dialed Angela on her cell phone. "Does Hodgins still have that cottage up in Maine?"

"Sure, sweetie. Why?" The woman was rightfully confused.

"Because I think I'm going to take Booth there." She explained her thoughts.

"Are you sure that's a good idea? It's really hidden away out there. If you end up in a position where you need help, it's not exactly near by."

"I'm not going to let that happen. That's the point." Brennan insisted. "This is all I have to offer him, Ange. This is it. If I leave him here…" _He'll find a way to die. _

"Okay. I'll talk to Hodgins and get everything together for you." Angela sounded like she thought Brennan was crazy.

She wasn't the only one. It turned out Brennan had to launch into a fierce fight with Booth's doctors to be allowed to check him out.

"He just made a suicide attempt," one doctor argued. "You can't just check him out."

"You don't know what his intentions were. None of us do." Brennan shot back. "Being here isn't helping him. I think that's apparent."

"Mental health isn't a quick process. We need more time to work on him."

"He doesn't have that kind of time."

"I beg your pardon?"

Brennan had to look away. She blinked rapidly to keep from getting upset. "Every day he gets worse. If this was an intentional overdose, then that's two attempts he's made, both nearly successful. You promised you'd be able to keep him safe. Obviously, you can't. I'm moving him and if I have to go over your heads, I will." She'd fight all the way up the food chain if she had to. "So I suggest you get moving."

It was under extreme protest, but the staff did as she asked. They had plenty of time to drag their feet. A few days passed before Booth made it through his episode for good. He still refused to discuss what he had done or how he'd been able to do it. Half the time Brennan was with him Booth was blank. The haunted look crept back into his features. That's when she knew she was doing the right thing.

While they were preparing for his discharge Brennan continued making plans. At night she left the hospital. From both of their apartments she retrieved personal items they'd likely need. Over the weekend she received the keys to the cottage from Hodgins. She took herself up to Maine alone. She spent the entire time there getting everything ready. Booth would make it through this. Come hell or high water she would see it through. Failing was not an option. She wouldn't let him go.

By Monday everything was ready. She wandered the unit looking for Booth. Though he was better and capable of walking around, he still was laying solitary in his bed. He looked at her when she came in, but didn't move.

"Get up."

"Why?"

"You're leaving."

The way his face lit up made her feel guilty. He assumed she was taking him home. And yet, she wouldn't tell him anything to the contrary. In order for her plan to work she had to dupe him. There was no other way.

He signed all the necessary paperwork with flourish. It'd been quite some time since Brennan had seen him so excited. Together they left the unit. He stayed close to her side during the elevator ride down to the main floor. She led him outside to her car. Inside they both climbed.

Brennan buckled her seat belt. "I got a shake for you." She took a cup out of the car's cup holder. "I know it's been a while."

"Hospital food's awful," he agreed, eagerly taking it from her. "And they wouldn't give me Jello," he grumbled before taking a sip.

She backed out of the parking space. Through the streets she drove. But instead of turning onto the street that led to her apartment, she got onto the highway.

Booth straightened in his seat. "Where are we going?"

"I just have to make a stop." _In about eleven hours from now._

He didn't ask any more questions. But after they'd be driving for more than an hour she saw him start to get restless. Suspicious. "Where is this place?"

"We're almost there." Brennan sneakily checked his shake cup. It was almost empty. Good.

It took another fifteen minutes before the effects kicked in. She'd hidden the contents of a powerful sleeping pill in his drink. Brennan knew the only way to get Booth up north was to knock him out. It also saved her from him knowing how to get back from where they were going. This time she'd truly taken every precaution.

Booth yawned. He settled down in his seat. Within moments he was sound asleep, snoring softly.

The sky got darker the longer they traveled. It was late at night by the time Brennan pulled into the driveway. She turned the car off, shutting off the headlights with it. Booth was still sleeping deeply. She watched the motions of his breathing. How was she going to get him inside? Yes, he'd lost weight, but he still weighed more than her, and was awkward to maneuver. "Booth?" She rubbed his shoulder vigorously.

His eyes cracked open. "Hmphwha?" He grunted.

"We need to go in."

He was too out of it to understand or care where he was going. He stumbled his way inside, half leaning against her. Brennan took him straight into the bedroom and laid him down. He fell right back asleep.

By herself she unloaded the car. By the time everything was finished and set she herself was fighting exhaustion. After a shower she changed into a pair of pajamas. Then she crawled into bed next to Booth. He didn't stir.

In the morning she woke up to bright sun shine. She noticed she was alone in the bed. The sheets were rumpled where Booth had once been. Sitting up, she listened for any noise. There was none. It was time to get up and face the music. She knew Booth wouldn't be happy.

And happy he was not. In the living room he was sitting in the middle of the floor.

"Booth?" She came to a stop behind him.

He turned to her with strong anger in his eyes. "Where are we?"

"Maine."

"Why'd you bring me here? What is this?"

"Booth-"

"There's nothing here." He rose to his feet. "There's no television. No radio. Hardly any appliances. Bones, there isn't even any silver ware!"

"I know." She said simply, unmoved by his anger.

"So what are we doing here?"

"It's a different form of rehab."

"What? I wanted to go home! Not this!"

"Booth, I don't know how else to help you!" She tried to reach for his hand to hold. He backed away from her. "I'm not letting you die!" She'd been prepared for this reaction. She'd backed him up into a corner and his fight or flight instinct was responding. "This is how it has to be."

"I didn't want this! How could you?" He tried to stomp past her. She let him, but added as he walked away, "you won't find the car keys."

Booth whirled around.

"You can't walk, either. The nearest town is forty miles away."

The rage in his eyes changed to hopelessness on a dime. Wordlessly he took himself into the bedroom. Behind him he shut the door.

Brennan sat down on the couch with a sigh. Over and over again she tried to reassure herself she was doing the right thing. Here Booth would have a harder time getting himself into trouble. He _had _to talk.

But deep down she was afraid she'd just pushed him completely over the edge.


	27. Worth It

"Show me what it's like to be the last one standing  
And teach me wrong from right  
And I'll show you what I can be  
Say it for me  
Say it to me  
And I'll leave this life behind me  
Say it if it's worth saving me"

"Savin' Me" - Nickelback

* * *

Booth sat himself down on the very edge of the bed. His shoulders were tight with tension. His fingers turned white from his tight grip on the mattress. His head was stooped, his chin tucked tightly against his chest. In and out he breathed methodically. His frustration made him want to put a fist through the wall. How could Brennan do this to him? She'd tricked him, no less. Looking back on it he realized there was no way he could have slept that entire journey without waking up from a nightmare. How long had she been planning this? He leapt up off the bed and began to pace. As far as he could see this wouldn't be any better than the hospital. The only difference was nature was his restrictor, instead of solid white walls.

He came to a stop. Out of his lungs he heaved a deep breath. Brennan had really out done herself. She was right. He couldn't exactly walk to town. Even if it was possible he wasn't exactly conditioned anymore to do any long distance walking. Driving apparently was out of the question. If he watched her closely there was a chance he could figure out where she'd hidden the keys. But what if he did? He wouldn't leave her stranded there. Car keys in hand, he'd still be stuck.

There was no solution. The only solution he had to all of his problems kept getting taken away from him. Why wouldn't they listen to him? Why didn't anyone care about what he thought or felt? Didn't they truly see what was going on with him? Didn't they see beyond the person down to the broken soul he'd become? _Why are they insisting on keeping me alive?_

A voice responded. A voice that, for once, _wasn't _Amanda's. _Because she loves you._

Booth stopped flat. _She shouldn't, _he argued back. _She's too late. She can't save me. She should just give up._

The voice answered yet again. _She won't do that. Love is love. You know that. You're worth everything to her. _

He shook his head. _Bones is too calculated for that. _

_Oh yeah? Look at what she's done for you. Look at the lengths she's gone just to keep you close. Keep you safe from yourself, since you nor anyone else can do it._

"Damn it," he breathed out loud. The voice was right. He knew then he needed to get away for a while. By himself he was itching for some time to think about things. In the bedroom he located a bag full of his clothing that Brennan had brought. He changed into a shirt and shorts. Then he pulled on his shoes before leaving the bedroom.

Brennan was leaning back on the couch. She sat forward when she saw him.

"I'm going for a walk," he told her. "Just a walk."

She was slow to nod in agreement. "Don't get lost. I don't know this area any better than you do."

"I know. I can find my way back."

She gave him a curious look.

"Sniper training. Look, Bones, I just need some time." He let himself out the front door.

For much of the rest of the afternoon he explored the woods around the cottage. The hiking turned out to be good for him. Something about walking around in the wild soothed something primal that had been tearing inside him. All along he thought about his life, about what it had become. He thought about his friends; his son. He thought about Brennan a lot. In fact, she occupied most of his thoughts.

His abduction hadn't just been hard on him. It'd put her through the ringer, too. He thought about how badly he had hurt her with his actions. Albeit, some of them hadn't exactly been his fault. But he could have tried harder. For her. It'd been out of fear and anger that he'd told her he wouldn't let her love him. But until that moment he didn't realize he'd been carrying through on that threat all along. He really hadn't been letting her love for him penetrate the cold exterior wall he'd put up.

It was late evening by the time he arrived back. The sun had set in the sky. Carefully he let himself inside the cottage. One single light was on. Brennan was stretched out length wise on the couch. She was on her side. Her eyes were closed. She was sleeping, but there was a restlessness in her sleep. On the outside it wasn't obvious. But Booth could sense it.

He knelt down besides her on the couch. She looked so beautiful sleeping so still. Her hair was splayed out around her face. Booth brushed a few strands behind her ear. "Bones," he whispered. "Get up."

"Hmm?"

"You're exhausted. Go to bed."

He helped her to her feet. Together they walked into the bedroom. Booth laid her down underneath the sheets, tucking her in securely. Before leaving he dared to let himself kiss her forehead. The simple sign of affection was one he was able to handle. Any time he was in control he seemed to be fine. It was when he lost that secure feeling that life went haywire for him.

Booth changed clothes. He crawled into bed next to her. His eyes shut.

_Booth's hands were bound together. His arms were tied over his head. She'd used rope this time instead of the usual handcuffs. The texture was burning sores onto his wrists. He still tugged, praying to a God who wasn't listening for relief. A savior._

_She lifted his tattered his shirt. He tried to squirm away as she pressed some sort of hot coil down against his dirty skin. Booth tried not to cry out. He wasn't broken yet, and was still trying to hold back his emotions out of risk of giving her more pleasure by seeing his pain. It was useless. She had to feel it anyway._

"_You know what's funny," she mused. "If you ever escape this, you won't survive. If you live through this you'll always be broken. Pathetic. No one will want to help someone like you. Someone so messed up you'll be beyond help."_

"_Go to Hell," he'd muttered through his teeth in a dark, gasping voice._

_She moved the object from his stomach to his neck. He couldn't help but to whimper. Her face perched right next to his. "You wanna say that again?"_

_He pressed his lips together._

"_Didn't think so." She withdrew. Blood ran down his neck from the new wound. She stood over him. "You're not worth saving. You're going to die, miserable and alone."_

"Booth?"

His heart was beating faster than he'd ever felt. He woke feeling like he was having a heart attack. In the pitch black he squinted at Brennan who was sitting up in bed, casting a worried look over him. "Yeah." He wheezed.

"Are you all right?"

He didn't know. So he said nothing. He closed his eyes once again and focused on slowing his pulse. His nightmare came back to him. _"You're not worth saving."_

Brennan sighed. She wiggled herself back down underneath the covers.

"Bones?"

"What?"

His voice was small. "Why are you doing all this? Why are you trying so hard to save me?"

The question threw her off. She rolled over onto her side to face him. "What?"

"I'm never going to get better."

"That's not true."

"I'm broken."

"Broken things can be repaired."

"Not always."

Brennan turned the light on next to the bed. "I'll be your sticky adhesive."

At that he smiled a little.

"I know what she did to you. I know what she tried to convince you. But your life is worth everything. You're a survivor. No matter what you didn't give up."

"I tried, Bones." He reminded her gently. "I've still been trying."

"That may be," she relented. "But your body has proven to be a lot stronger than your mind. All your life you've been exceptional at everything you've done. You've always strove for better. Booth," she pressed her palm against his chest. His muscles tensed, but he didn't move away from her. "Do it now. Strive for better. I know you are capable."

"I'm trying."

"I know you are." She allowed herself to drift closer to him.

He watched her. "You really think this is going to help me?"

"The hospital didn't work. Being in my apartment with me didn't work."

"Yes, it did."

"You almost shot-" She couldn't finish her sentence.

He stared down at the sheets between them.

"I didn't bring you out here as an ambush. I brought you out here to help you in the only way left that I know how." Her voice choked with emotion. "I'd do anything to help you. If you hate me, I'll understand. But I have to try."

"I don't hate you, Bones." Far from it, actually. Her love, her refusal to give up on him was allowing him to once again return the love he felt. He didn't feel quite so angry, so combative. "I just feel like it's a lost cause."

"It's not. You'll feel better. I'll help you. I promise."

There were those magic words once again. Booth leaned across the space between them and kissed her. "Thank you."

She dared to let herself hope. Was she at last getting through to him?


	28. Tying The Pain Below

_The cold steel of the barrel of a gun was pressed against Booth's temple. His attempts at struggling ended abruptly. All he could focus on was the instrument of death being held against his head._

"_You're going to listen to me," she hissed in his ear. "You're going to stop struggling and give me what I want."_

"_Or else what?" He shot back in a strong voice. One much stronger than he felt._

_There was a small chuckling sound. "Or else everyone you know dies. I know all about all of them. I know," she cocked the gun. "All about your son."_

_Booth gave no reaction. But his muscles tensed with anger. She was bluffing. There was no way she could have known about anything._

_However, she did. "Don't believe me?" She went on to recite the addresses of at least two people he cared about the most, Brennan and Parker. How did she know? Had she been following them? His body went flaccid in shock._

"_That's right," she smiled. "Now, are you willing to hold still to save their lives?"_

_It killed him to give up. But he obeyed. There was no way he'd do anything stupid to risk the lives of those he loved. Whether she was tricking him or not, he didn't want to test her._

_Something that felt as hot as fire was pressed down against his wrist, dangerously close to one of the main veins just underneath his sinewy skin. Booth unconsciously couldn't help trying to jerk away. He shook violently as a result from his efforts to control himself._

_Her laughing echoed in his ears as he passed out from the pain._

Booth woke with his fingernails pressed so tightly into his palm he'd found he'd actually drawn blood. He uncurled his fist, grimacing at the brief twinge of pain he felt. Red liquid stained the white portion of his nails. He got up, taking himself into the bathroom and washing his hands. He then wrapped a piece of gauze around the area of the wound.

Brennan wasn't in the bedroom. The sheets on her side of the bed were rumpled. Whether it was because she left them behind, or he'd simply yanked on them in his terror, he didn't know. All he knew is he wanted to see her.

She was in the kitchen making some sort of food concoction. He noticed she was using regular kitchen utensils. So she _had _brought silverware and had been hiding it from him. Honestly, he was too tired to even care. The wishes for death he'd had had faded a bit. The suicidal impulse was still in the back of his mind. He had no doubt that it wouldn't take much to bring it back to the surface. For now, though, he was content with leaving it at bay.

She felt his eyes on her. Away from the stove she turned, pausing to smile at him. That smile went away when she saw his appearance. His wrapped hand didn't slip by her attention, either. "Booth?"

"Stuff keeps coming back to me, Bones. Every time I try to sleep I remember something."

"That's good." Cautiously she drew near. "You need to remember to leave it in the past, Booth."

"I'm scared to let it out, Bones." His voice was as soft as a child's.

"Why?" She took another step closer.

"I'm afraid of what will happen to me if I have to relive it." He raised his guilty eyes to hers.

"That's why we're here. It's safe here. I've made sure nothing can happen to you."

He smiled a little, though it was sad. "You and I both know if I was determined enough, nothing could stop me."

She did know. But hearing him say those thoughts drew shivers down her spine. Instead of responding she took his hand into hers. Tenderly she unwrapped the bandage and took a look at the damage. "You were making a fist," she observed by the embedded nail marks.

"She threatened to kill you. You and Parker. She'd been hunting me long before she carried out her plans." _Like a sniper. _He turned his gaze out the kitchen window. He felt dizzy, ready to fall over or collapse. "She knew intimate details about your schedules. I gave her what she wanted."

"Booth," she touched his cheek, pleased when he didn't pull away. "You have nothing to feel bad about. You did what you had to do."

"I was afraid she'd find a way to hurt you."

_She did, _Brennan thought to herself ruefully. _She hurt you. _

"I did terrible things," he continued on as though in a trance. "I _let her _do terrible things to me."

This was good. Or so she thought. "You had to, to survive." No matter what she had to emphasize this to him. "I know its difficult but you have no reason to feel guilty, or ashamed. She should've for all the damage she did. The lives she wrecked."

"She had no remorse."

"No. She didn't."

"But I do."

"And you shouldn't."

He dropped his head with a defeated sigh. "I don't get it, Bones. This is so hard."

Tentatively she embraced him. She simply held him, letting him get use to the hug without startling him and also hoping to inflict some comfort. After all this time he should have been getting used to her. And he was. It just depended on the day. She sometimes couldn't help but to think he'd never be completely comfortable around anyone ever again. Too much had been altered inside of him to ever put the pieces back completely where they'd been.

He hugged her back.

"You have to keep talking," she insisted gently.

He shook his head. "I'm not worth saving." His voice was so eerily similar to Amanda's that it drew shivers up her spine. His oversized shirt slipped a bit off of his shoulder, exposing the wound by his collar bone. These two in combination struck her. Brennan couldn't help herself but to reach out and touch it. He backed away from her like she'd wounded him. Immediately she pulled back. What had come over her? "I-I'm sorry."

With rigid fingers that trembled slightly he took her hand back to the spot. He allowed her to touch it for the first time while he was conscious. While she carefully smoothed her hand over the scar he was unable to look at her. His head drooped.

She prodded the red line, stopping when she felt his chest tighten. What had caused such an injury?

"A knife." His voice was a shock in the tense silence. Somehow he knew her thoughts.

The nightmarish images that she had already foreseen hit her hard as she realized what she imagined was most likely what had happened. She drew her hand back as though she'd been touching a hot stove.

Her reaction was noticed. "Bones," he said softly. "You can't help me. This is too much for you."

"It isn't. I'll do anything, Booth. You know that."

"Maybe you need to just let me go."

It was her turn to look away. It baffled her, his behavior. He could be on the road to improvement for so long before he stumbled again. She had to remind herself he was safe here. She'd done everything in her power to make sure of it. "Are you hungry?" She changed the subject, letting his sentence hang in the air untouched.

He shrugged, but his expression gave him away. He was ravenous.

She sat him down at the kitchen table. "I made chicken soup," she explained as she scooped some into bowls for them. "I know it's not much. But it was my mother's recipe." She set a bowl down in front of him.

He was so hungry he'd gobbled everything and was asking for seconds before she'd even eaten half of her own. Once he was completely finished he cleaned up after himself. He then sat back down and put his head in his hands.

"What is it?"

"I'm just so tired." Booth appeared just as drained as he was admitting. Brennan gave up the rest of her meal. She stood. "Come on." Hand in his she led him back into their bedroom. She laid him down on top of the mattress. Then she herself took up the spot next to him. Like numerous times before she expertly massaged his muscles until she saw him start to drift off. His eyes stayed locked on hers until they shut. His breaths softened and slowed.

"_Maybe you should just let me go." _His sad sentence repeated itself to her. She'd never do it. They'd started this journey together. She was determined to see it through.

* * *

To Booth's credit, he did start trying. He began confessing daily all of his memories to Brennan. The pain. The abuse. The torture. No matter how difficult it was for him he forced it all out into the open. He purged memories that had locked themselves away in his psyche.

If any of it was helping, Brennan was unaware. Booth withdrew himself from her. When he spoke to her about his experiences it was as if someone else was doing the talking. He became cold; robotic. He'd be no more finished before he was itching to leave the room. He often hid himself away somewhere in which Brennan couldn't find him. Since he always came back, she had decided it was best to let him have whatever space he'd sought out as his refuge. Reliving the past was difficult. She understood his need.

What Brennan didn't realize was the toll the pain was taking on him. The extent of it. She thought she was doing everything right. Until she found him early one afternoon asleep in their bed. He looked peaceful enough. There was no trace of any displeasure on his face. With a smile she stood still, just enjoying watching him. Booth wiggled in his sleep. He turned his head to the opposite side. In doing so he flexed his arm muscles. And there underneath his sleeve Brennan caught glimpse of a scar.

She'd gotten used to seeing scars on his body. But there was something different about this one. Up she cautiously lifted his sleeve to take a look. A fresh, bloody cut smacked her straight in the face. Several more scabbed wounds crisscrossed his arms, taking the place of old needle marks. Seeing it all made her sick to her stomach. Booth had somehow found a way to hurt himself. And what was worse, there was nothing she could do about it. She didn't know where he was concealing himself when he wasn't with her. And it wasn't as though she could keep him prisoner. Hotly she marched from the room.

For hours she sat and stewed while he slept on. Everything she'd been thinking was wrong. None of this was helping him. If he wasn't working out his issues by talking about them then what was left? She refused to believe she couldn't save him. But what else could she do?

By the time he woke she was emotional. Anger edged itself forward over her fear and sadness. Booth never saw it coming. He had stopped in the bedroom's doorway the minute he had seen her face. He hadn't even gotten out a word before she strode up to him, yanking on his sleeve. "What is this?"

He froze.

Brennan didn't lose control of her emotions very often. She was always a composed woman. So when she did let loose, it was as though a dam had exploded. "You don't want to live, do you?"

Booth's eyes were trained on the floor. His muscles were so taut he was shaking.

"Why are you doing this to yourself? To me? Why are you letting her take control over you? Damn it, Booth! I don't know what else I can do to help you!"

All he heard was, _I'm giving up on you._

"But what's what you want, isn't it?" Tears filled her eyes. She pushed by him, shutting herself in the bedroom before he could see her start to cry.

Booth remained standing. He was stunned by her out burst. How had she discovered what he'd done? Not that it mattered. She was more upset than he'd ever seen her. And so, he left to give her some time alone.

Brennan slept deeply for a few hours. By the time woke day had turned into night. She laid with her eyes closed, listening. There were no sounds in the cabin. Booth wasn't there. Tighter she shut her eyes, slinking her body back down underneath her covers. Her words to him came back to her.

What had she done?


	29. An Epiphany Of Sorts

The ground protested underneath Booth's shoes as he crunched his path through the woods. He shivered through the light jacket he'd slipped over his shoulders before he'd stepped out the cabin door. It'd been some time ago since he'd wandered off the beaten path and down onto his own. Now as the sun was beginning to go down he was regretting his decision. In the fading light everything around him looked all the same. His sniper instincts had blinders on. He stopped abruptly and turned in a circle.

It'd been hours since he'd left Brennan behind at the cabin. He wondered how she was coping since he'd left. Had she noticed yet? Did she realize he was coming back? He hadn't left a note. He'd felt it had been better to get out as quickly as he could to give her some obvious much needed space. Brennan, from what he was seeing, was at the end of her rope. And it was all because of him.

Her words floated around his heart like a toxic poison. He felt guilty, and ashamed. Everything Brennan had said had, unfortunately, been right on. Booth hadn't really been trying. Not the way he should have been. Yes, he'd been telling Brennan all the memories and nightmares that had come to his waking conscious. But he hadn't allowed himself to _feel _it while he'd been talking to her. It was like his mind left his body, putting him in a trance where nothing touched him. He had to imagine it was his mind's way of protecting himself from the intense trauma he'd been put through. Obviously he wasn't ready to deal with it. The idea of giving up control to his memories was still a frightening concept, and one he backed away from entirely. Without having worked through his hopelessness he didn't think he was ready to move on to the next level.

Hurting himself was a good distraction. He'd discovered it on accident, when he'd been walking outside. He'd slipped and scraped himself badly as he'd collided with the ground. The shot of adrenaline and pain had erased the emotional pain he had been feeling in that moment of time. When days later he'd been taking a walk and found a broken piece of glass down near one of the many small lakes in the woods, it seemed like a sign. Whenever he felt himself slip into a place he didn't want to be in he took to abusing himself. He hadn't ever intended for Brennan to see it. Knowing how much it affected her disturbed him all the more. Maybe she would be better off if he were gone. _Maybe it would have been better if I'd never been found at all._

He sighed. Thinking along these lines yet again didn't help him get back to the cabin. Time was running out as it was getting darker and colder by the minute. But the woods had camouflaged the way he'd came. His thoughts had been so deep as he'd been walking around that he hadn't paid the slightest bit of attention as to where he'd been going. _You were a sniper. You found your way through jungles in countries no one has ever even heard of. This is nothing. _But that was another time. And he'd been a different person. With no other choice he picked a random direction.

An hour later he still was no closer to where he had started. The temperature in the air was sinking lower and lower. Booth's shivering got worse the darker the sky got. His jacket was proving to be useless. In the air his breath misted in small puffs. What was he going to do to get back? He had no cell phone; no way to call for help. He had no idea how deep in the woods he'd gone.

_This is bad, _he thought, stopping and staring up at the sky.

* * *

To be sure Booth was indeed gone, Brennan emerged out from underneath the covers. She pulled the comforter off her bed and around herself to keep himself warm against the cool that had crept in. From room to room she slunk around looking for him. Each space turned up nothing. Was he hiding in his special spot? Did she need to find him? She panicked, worrying suddenly that he was in trouble. Back in the bedroom she shed her blanket and changed into jeans and a sweat shirt.

Booth's hide out had to be outside. There was no crook or nanny inside that she hadn't checked when he'd first begun to disappear. Before heading out the door she grabbed a flash light. Then she took herself out to scavenge the area. Back and forth she used the beam to light the ground all around her while she called his name. Only crickets answered her.

She'd rounded the house twice before the flash light caught on an square indent in the side of the cabin. It was medium size, with enough room for a grown man to fit through with some wiggle room. Brennan dropped down to one knee. She set the flash light onto the ground. Into the small crack she managed to squeeze her fingers in. After a few good tugs the door opened right up. Inside was definitely Booth's lair. A stair led down into a pit that ran underneath the cabin. Carefully Brennan moved down inside. She crouched on the ground, aiming her flash light at the environment around her.

It was easy to see now how Booth spent hours down there. He had a sleeping bag he must have rummaged up from somewhere. Along with it he'd taken a pillow from their bedroom. Brennan was mad at herself for not noticing sooner.

Beyond that she found a broken piece of glass, most likely to be from a beer bottle, she determined, next to his sleeping bag. That seemed to be his instrument of choice. The possibility of disease and infection was something she hadn't even thought about. When she found him she'd have to take a closer inspection of his wounds. In the mean time she pocked the glass, being extra careful not to cut herself. Somewhere she'd find a place to hide it away from him.

From there, there wasn't much else to see. She crawled back out into the night. So if Booth wasn't in the cabin, and he wasn't in his own space, where was he? Her eyes were drawn out into the woods. It'd been hours since he'd left. Had he set off on his own? Was it another suicide mission? She inhaled sharply at the thought. _No. _She didn't know why, but she just didn't think that was his intention.

Either Booth was lost, or he was in danger. Regardless of which ever, he needed to be found. Temperatures at night were known to drop down into the teens. Already she could feel the atmosphere changing yet again. And so Brennan went inside, pulled on a coat, hat, and gloves, and set out to find him.

* * *

Booth was sitting up with his back against a tree. Mere minutes ago he'd collapsed onto the ground. He was so cold he could hardly think straight. The mild shaking had become so severe he could hardly see straight. The tips of his fingers were bluish in color. He knew he was in trouble, but he was too disoriented to see his way out. His breaths were deep and quick. It felt like the bitter cold was enabling him from being able to pull oxygen into his lungs. His eyes closed in a wince.

_Look at you. You're just as pathetic as you ever were._

Booth opened his eyes. There Amanda squatted right before him.

_I'm pathetic? _He shot back. _I shot you. Killed you. You never even saw it coming._

Her smile was crooked. _You may have won in the end, but I obviously won over all. You're still letting me control you. How does it feel, Booth? Being a victim? Knowing I took everything away from you? I made you less of a man._

"Screw you," he bit out loud through clenched teeth.

She laughed. _You know what? You haven't won. Because the power you give me will ultimately kill you in the end. I won't stop until you've taken your own life. I may be dead but I'm still torturing you from beyond. I'll drive you stark raving mad. I'll make you so difficult that no one will want to deal with you, not even your precious Bones._

"You're wrong," he murmured, his words losing strength. The confusion was worsening. Where was he? How had he gotten here?

_She doesn't love you. It's all an act. She'll hurt you just like I did. _

"Wrong." He slurred. "She doesn't… she won't…" In the distance he could hear someone hollering for him. It didn't hit any recognition in his brain.

_She already has. It's because of her you're out here._

"Didn't… mean…"

_Just give up. You'll be doing everyone a favor._

Even in his confusion the words hit a nerve. "No!" He growled. "Can't… let… you win…"

_I'll be waiting._

"Have… to fight…"

"Booth?"

He was delirious. "I have to… I have to…"

Brennan was relived to find him. "Booth!" She got down onto her knees besides him. "Booth?" She ran her fingers over his cheek. His skin was shockingly cold. _Hypothermia. _"Booth, we have to get you back."

"She can't…"

Brennan wrinkled her nose in confusion. "Who can't?"

"She's winning… I can't… let her."

Though Brennan was thrilled to hear those words, now wasn't the time. She had to get him back to the cabin to get warmed up. "No, you can't. But right now we need to get you back."

"I can't…"

She smoothed her fingers over his cheek again. "You have to help me, Booth."

He cracked open his eyes and looked at her. The look in them told her all she needed to know. He was in jeopardy.

"Don't let her win."

Stiffly he pulled one leg under him. Then the other. Together they stood. She pulled him against her, doing her best to support him. And together they headed back for the cabin.


	30. The Catalyst To Healing

Though they'd only been a few miles into the forest Booth's shaking had gotten worse with every step. By the time they reached the cabin's porch he was sagging in Brennan's arms. She'd no more opened the door when he nearly sank down to the ground. Just in time did she catch him. "C'mon," she said encouragingly. "We're here."

How much of her he was hearing, she was unsure. His eyes were glazed. They seemed fixed off into space. She tugged him back up onto his feet. Together they just barely made it into the bedroom. Brennan lowered him down onto the mattress. It was then she noticed for the first time the bluish hue in his fingertips. She needed to warm him up immediately. But she had to be careful in doing so. She knew upping his body temperature too fast could kill him. And so she started by doing the only thing she could think of. Changing his clothes.

If he was uncomfortable by her actions he didn't show it. He laid completely still, except of course for the natural way he trembled. It worried her to see him continue to stare unflinchingly at the ceiling. "Booth?"

He never answered, but she didn't let it deter her. She crawled onto the bed next to him when she finished with his clothes. Over the two of them she pulled up several layers of blankets. Last she held him in her arms close to her body. Perhaps the shared body heat would be of help. Booth's head nestled down on her stomach. She hesitantly ran her hands over the muscles in his arms and shoulders. Diligently she waited for a sign.

Booth could feel her presence. But he was too numb, too far gone to truly notice her. He closed his eyes. The sound of his breathing seemed amplified in his ears. Thoughts were difficult to process. His brain felt submerged in a block of ice. Then, suddenly, it was as if someone dumped hot water over him.

_Well, well, here we are again._

Tiredly he opened his eyes back up to find Amanda sitting on the edge of the bed besides Brennan. He tried to make a noise to warn her, but he couldn't find his voice.

Amanda was watching the way Brennan was running her hands over his skin. _You're really going to let her touch you like that? After what we shared? _She giggled.

Booth blinked. Was this real? Was it really happening? First the woods… and now here? Maybe she was right. This never would end. He'd be seeing her everywhere for the rest of his life.

_She's stringing you along and you're buying into it._

He breathed heavily from a surge of anger that bolted through him.

_It's all a good game she's got you believing. She'll turn on you._

_Never, _he insisted back, at last able to think. _Not Bones._

Inch by inch she came closer. _You're so stupid, you know that? You really are going to trust her after she gave up looking for you? She didn't save you, did she? _

_She's saving me now. She hasn't given up on me, even though I gave up on myself._

Amanda was getting to be too close for comfort. There was evilness in her eyes as she reached over Brennan and smoothed her hand over his lower stomach. _Remember the first time? You enjoyed it. Every little thing I did to you. You acted like it was such torture, but we both know the truth. You didn't even put up much of a fight. You didn't want to stop me._

He jerked away from her invisible touch. _You drugged me. There was nothing I could do._

Brennan, who had closed her eyes, startled at the sudden movement. She studied him. "Booth?"

Booth experienced nothing but Amanda. She was a virus that had taken over his control. She continued on taunting him with a devious smile. _That's right. I wish I hadn't of given you so much. I would have liked it if you'd struggled more. But I know I loved every single minute of it anyway. Every noise you made. Do you remember?_

Booth grit his teeth against the painful memories. Everything she described played like a movie before his eyes.

_You remember how it felt when I restrained you? You nearly quit on me then and there. I'm glad you didn't. It made breaking you more satisfying. _

Five minutes had passed since Booth had stopped trembling. Brennan had been keeping count. Therefore she was unprepared when he began vibrating once again. This time, however, she could tell it was for a different reason. Booth had grown rigid. He breathed in angry puffs, sounding much like an aggravated bull instead of a person. His expression had darkened, and with his eyes so dark and menacing Brennan nearly didn't recognize him. He transformed himself.

"Booth?" She questioned. She followed his gaze, seeing nothing, of course, except the wall. "What are you seeing?"

_You disappointed me when you gave up. But only briefly. Having you fight me had been fun, but getting my way with no resistance was even better. I loved the feeling of your despair. Your helplessness._

Booth again propelled himself forward, as though he could attack his own vision. Brennan was forced to take hold of his arm. "Booth, what is it?" Then suddenly it dawned on her. She thought his ramblings had been from hypothermia. But now she understood he was hallucinating, and it had nothing to do with the cold. He needed saving from himself. If he believed Amanda was real, which in his state he clearly did, then there was no saying what he was capable of. "Booth, listen to me. She's not real."

Booth was near hyper ventilating. He was deaf to Brennan's words. Not that that stopped her from trying. She was afraid what would happen to him, of what _was _happening to him. How could she pull him away from what his powerful mind was convincing him was real? All this time he'd been worried about losing his sanity. Was it finally happening?

_Do you hear her begging for you? You can't trust her. She'll take advantage of you. She's already tried._

Booth closed his eyes again. _No. You're wrong._

_What about that one night? Your "therapy?"_

He made a fist. _She was helping me._

Amanda snickered. _Sure. If that's what you want to call it._

Booth was putting up one hell of a fight, but losing quickly. Despite the rushes of adrenaline he got from his anger he was weakening. Brennan could feel his heart beating much too hard; too fast. Simply she had to put an end to this before it put an end to him. She didn't know how much more his body could withstand. "Booth," she untangled herself from him. On his back she laid him down, sitting herself up over him. "Please, whatever you're seeing or hearing. It isn't real."

_I'm real. You felt me on your body. Everything I put you through is real._

"Don't listen to her."

_You know I'm real. I'll always be real whether I'm here or not. I'll always be a part of you._

"Booth, please," she was near tears. "Come back to me." She tried touching him yet again, this time running her fingers through his hair. The simple action was just enough to spring him loose. _Bones. _He opened his eyes back up to see her, not Amanda. In fact, Amanda had completely vanished from the room. He let out a long exhale in relief. _Thank God._

"It's okay," she told him, continuing her affection. "She's not here. She wasn't real."

"She raped me, Bones."

Brennan hadn't been expecting that. A knife plunged through her chest into her heart. "I know." They both knew. But he'd never said those particular words out loud. He'd never been able to.

"There was nothing I could do."

"She was trying to emasculate you."

"She tried to convince me I wanted it. That I liked it." A tear fell from his eye. He turned his head away from her.

Brennan wasn't sure what to say. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear this. But this was a step she never thought she'd see him take. He was letting the poison that had been tainting his body go. He was finally attempting to heal himself. "It's all right," she told him, for lack of better comforting words.

"I'm so cold," he under toned.

Brennan responded instantly by laying back down. She embraced him once again. "She can't get you anymore," she reminded him softly. "You survived, Booth."

He never made a peep. But she could feel him crying. Though it broke her heart she decided to say nothing. Being there with him was enough. For now. He was starting what was sure to be a long path to health. And she'd be there by his side through all of it.


	31. Always Expect The Unexpected

Author's Note: So you all have been asking for more, and here it is! ;) And I thank you for those PMs, sometimes I need a little poke to get me going again. Now I have a question for all of you. I think, with the way I have this chapter, I can keep going with this for a bit longer. Should I do it? I don't want this story to feel stale, or over do it, and I worry about that. But you the readers have a different perspective. I appreciate any and all imput!

* * *

_"If I could be the chains I'd fall from you and let you fly like an angel_  
_If I could be the pain I'd run from you, so far away_  
_If I could turn the time back just one day it might just be enough to say_  
_All the things I've never said to you_

**_And what you don't know won't hurt you_**  
**_What you don't show will kill you_**"

"If (Jeanne's Song) - Butch Walker

* * *

Booth spent the next two days sleeping off his mental encounter. Brennan left him undisturbed. She felt it better he get his rest. After everything, he needed it. She used the time to research the internet on therapy techniques to help him. Hour after hour she hit a dead end. Who was she kidding? Psychology was a science that made no sense to her. And though she was brilliant, she was a scientist, not a therapist. It bothered her that she couldn't find more successful ways at helping him. The door in his soul had been cracked open. Now if they could just push it the rest of the way.

When he finally woke he found Brennan with her laptop in the kitchen. Her back was to him. She had no idea he was there, which he found himself feeling grateful for. Their last conversation played through his mind. And suddenly, he found himself shy around her. Saying those words had brought down a wall of solidarity he'd been holding up. He didn't like Brennan thinking of him as being sexually vulnerable. _He _didn't even like thinking about it. But in a moment of weakness it had been put out into the open. Whether it helped or not was yet to be known.

Brennan must have felt his eyes on her. She twisted in her chair. At the sight of him she smiled. "Hi. Feel better?"

"How long have I been out?"

"You've been in and out for two days."

He whistled as his stomach let out a painful growl.

"Want me to make you something?"

Booth nodded. It almost seemed and felt like they were a real domestic couple. A relationship such as that between them would have been believable if it weren't for the obvious fact of why they were in isolation.

Some time later she set a plate of food in front of him. He ate while she returned to her computer. Pleasingly she noticed he consumed every last bit. When they got back to D.C. she wondered if she should suggest he begin a work out regime. If they could turn that fuel back into muscle he'd get back to his physique. She had to imagine having the body he once had instead of the scrawny, abused one he had now could help him deal with his issues. Strength was on the list of things Amanda had taken away from him. He needed that power back in every way.

Booth finished. He stood, washing his plate in the sink. Despite all the sleep he'd had he still appeared to be exhausted. Brennan watched him closely. His movements were slow. But a light was shining in his eyes. That was a good sign, right? "Booth?"

"Yeah." He grabbed a dish towel.

"Are you feeling all right?"

For a second time he nodded. "I'm going to lay down on the couch for a while."

She let him go. Ideally she would have liked to have followed him, but she was afraid she was becoming a mother hen. Booth didn't need her crowding. More than ever he needed his space if she expected him to sincerely come to her with his problems.

There was a light clicking sound as her fingers resumed once again over the keys of her keyboard. She had yet to give up on her search. There _had _to be some sort of therapy tool out there she could use to help him. There just _had _to be. The cabin was so silent that seconds after he left the room she heard Booth fall to the floor upon impact. "Booth? You all right?"

There wasn't an answer. Frowning, she pulled her attention from her computer screen. "Booth?" She rose from her chair. Had he slipped? Why wasn't he answering her? Had he struck his head and knocked himself out? If she was over reacting or being over bearing than so be it. Immediately she traced his steps.

Booth had collapsed down onto his side. His head was resting on the floor with his arm sprawled out in front of him, like he'd been trying to reach for something as he'd gone down. But first and foremost, he was shaking violently.

Brennan dropped down to her knees. "Booth?"

His eyes were shut tight. His jaw was so clenched that she worried he'd break teeth. It was then she came to realize he was having another seizure. But, why? She didn't give herself time to think about it. She pulled him into her arms and just held him as he trembled.

Some time passed before it finally ended. Booth laid limp in her arms. She waited patiently for his eyes to open; for him to come out of it. He didn't, much to her increased worry. "Come on," she whispered to him. What had caused this to happen? He hadn't been upset that she knew of. There hadn't been any speaking of anything painful. Could something else be going on? "Booth, wake up!" She brushed his hair. Tapped his cheek. Shook him. Nothing. "Come out of it." She begged him. She checked his pulse to find it sluggish. While still feeling his skin there was a sudden spike of increased energy. Then he went into another episode.

_We're miles from town and further from a hospital. _Brennan looked down at him as he shook in her arms with less intensity. A weaker seizure. Aftershocks after the quake. _We don't have a choice. Something's wrong, and I'm not so sure it has to do with his emotions this time. _

Just barely could she lug him out to the car. Across the back seat she laid him down, having to fold up his legs to be able to shut the door. It may not have been the best idea. But in her anxiety ridden state it was taking all she had just to be able to think straight. _Hospital. I've got to find the nearest hospital. I didn't see any driving up! _Then again, she hadn't exactly been looking. She should have, she decided. Just in case something happened. Such as this.

Luckily the part of the country they were in was nothing but open highways. She pushed the limit of how fast her car could go. If she was pulled over then it was for the better. A police officer could help getting medical attention. One look at Booth and she doubted she'd get a ticket.

They were on the outskirts of town when she heard him moan. "Booth?" She checked on him in her rearview mirror.

He'd opened his eyes. Still he continued to lay in the position she'd left him in.

"Do you know where you are?"

Dazedly, he blinked.

"Booth, answer me."

To one side his head rolled. His eyes drifted shut again. There was no arguing that whatever was happening to him hadn't finished.

The hospital wasn't easy to find. But she managed it. The car pulled into the bay of the emergency room where several ambulances were already parked, having brought their victims and waited to return to their life saving duties. Brennan squealed to a stop. She rushed out of the car as hospital staff came running with a stretcher.

"He's been having seizures!" She told anyone who would listen.

He was rushed into treatment. She was locked out. As always. It may have been a different hospital but the waiting room was all the same. Down into a chair she near collapsed. Putting her head in her hands, she inhaled deeply and allowed herself to breathe again. Her body was sore from the tense muscles she'd driven with. Now though she couldn't completely relax, she could feel more at ease knowing he was getting adequate care.

Hours passed with no word. Brennan was near going out of her mind. It wasn't like she hadn't been through his procedure before with him. But waiting was always the worst. Over to the window she took herself. Her arms wrapped around her sides for comfort. A full moon shone down on the world. _Blue moon, you saw me standing alone…_

"Dr. Brennan?"

She whirled around. A doctor was beckoning her out into the hall. Throwing her shoulders back, she followed. She tried to prepare herself for whatever he might have had to say.

First he introduced himself as Dr. Connor. "I'm sorry I had to keep you waiting so long. Given Mr. Booth's history it took some time getting all his records from the various doctors he's been to."

Brennan understood. Hated it, hated being in this position, but understood. "Do you have a diagnosis?"

"How was he up until this morning?"

Brennan recalled the past few days for him. The suspected hypothermia from their tryst out in the woods. She spoke of the pain he'd confided in her but didn't get specific. If Dr. Connor already had Booth's records then he no doubt knew about the sexual abuse. But that didn't mean she wanted to discuss it with a stranger, doctor or not. Last she ended with him sleeping for near two days straight. "He ate and collapsed. There was no warning or reason for it."

"Mmhmm." Dr. Connor had listened closely. He was thinking intently.

"So do you know what's wrong with him?" Brennan rephrased her question impatiently.

"No. I'm trying to get an idea as to what led up to this. We're doing some different tests to give us images of his brain. I also ordered some additional testing on his body."

Depending on the tests she knew Booth wouldn't tolerate it. If he was awake. "What sort of testing?"

"Blood. Saliva. Urine. Things of that nature."

She caught on immediately. "You think he's sick."

"He was abused, Dr. Brennan. It's not out of the realm of possibility that he caught-"

"His abductor worked in a hospital. He was checked when he was rescued, and he was fine. If you think he's got AIDS he's shown no symptoms, and seizures have nothing to do with it. I'm sure you know that." She bit back like a rabid dog.

"I do. But there's other diseases. I just want to cover everything."

Brennan shut her eyes in pain. This was a true nightmare. Why couldn't they just wake up from it? Why couldn't she just save him?

"If you don't mind waiting a bit longer we can let you in to sit with him."

She willingly agreed. The two parted. Brennan sat herself back down. Tears hazed her vision. _I could work with him on saving his mind. _She sniffed, trying to keep control. _But if its his body that's turned against him, what can I do?_


	32. Dying Easy Of A Broken Heart Disease

Brennan was just about asleep when Dr. Connor came for her. She was glad to be woken. In her semi conscious state she'd already begun to see horrible images before her eyes. Only now, instead of Amanda being the one to kill Booth, it was a deadly virus she had no control over. She was forced to watch his heart seize up just before she felt the hand on her arm. Gratefully she opened her eyes. That dream had mirrored life just a bit too much for her taste. "I can see him?"

"He's in the second cubicle in Intensive Care."

"Has he woken?"

"He's been in and out."

Brennan got up from her chair. Her bones cracked and popped in protest of being locked up in one position for too long. She followed Dr. Connor part of the way. Then while he veered away to check on one of his other patients she kept going. It wasn't difficult for her to find Booth. It was like the man wore a damn homing beacon.

Booth was floating somewhere between consciousness and sweet bliss. His television had been left turned on to a hockey game. The sound had been turned up; the announcers' voices rattling her ear drums the moment she came into the room. Grimacing, she turned the sound down.

"Hey. I was listening to that."

Booth. His eyes weren't open. He was pale. And his words were slurred. But damn if he couldn't still make her smile. She went directly to his side. "I'd apologize but I'm not experiencing sorrow for turning down the sound."

He smiled a little.

"How are you feeling?"

"I thought I signed up for the spa treatment."

It was her turn to smile. "You scared me, Booth."

"I know." He had just enough strength to crack an eye open. "I'm sorry. Have they told you anything about my condition?"

"No." She took a dramatic pause as her pulse raced. "They think you might be sick with something. Something you might have gotten from Amanda."

_I told you I'd kill you in the end. _Booth tried to shut the familiar voice out of his mind. "They did a bunch of tests. That's all I know."

"Yes. We're waiting for results."

"How long will it take?"

"Some we'll know by morning. Others will take days."

He pushed his other eye open. "Take me home, then."

Brennan gave him a look suggesting she thought he was an alien. Downright absurd. "Booth, you're sick."

"Take me home."

"You had two seizures."

"Take me home." He insisted.

"What if you have another one?"

"You can take care of me."

She began to say something, then cut herself off with a sigh. There was no arguing with him. "They'll never let me check you out."

"I'll sign myself out."

"You can barely walk."

"Bones, I've spent too much of my life lately in a hospital. Please. I just want to go home. What's the difference if I'm laying in bed sick at home or laying in bed sick in a hospital?"

"Here you can instantly receive care."

Frustrated, he breathed harshly through his nose. His eyes closed again.

"If you could see what you looked like you'd understand my reluctance." She tried to tell him.

"If I'm dying," he said in a voice almost inaudible. She had to strain to hear him. "Then I want to do it at home. I'm not saying I am, or that I'm giving up." He added quickly. "But I don't want to be here. _Please, _Bones."

He always knew how to charm her into getting his way. And yet again, it worked. She left him to hunt for Dr. Connor. And naturally, within a few hours, they were headed home.

* * *

Booth slept nearly the entire journey. Brennan had been right on. Once they reached her building he needed assistance getting inside. Once there though, he took himself straight into her bedroom and laid himself down underneath the sheets. As it was in the early morning hours and she herself had barely slept, she joined him. No words were exchanged. They simply laid side by side.

Booth gazed up at the ceiling until his eyes glazed over. _You thought you had problems before. They're just beginning. I left you with a little present. A ticking time bomb in your body. I told you. I warned you. You'll never get away from me. I'll bring you down._

"What's she saying?"

Brennan's voice startled him. How'd she know? "The usual," he answered vaguely. Suddenly a thought came to him. "Bones?"

"What?"

"I want to see my apartment."

"What? Booth-"

"I want you to call the bureau and tell them I'll be back in three months."

"Are you-"

"Three months." He repeated in a determined voice.

"Booth, you should know. With everything that's happened, you very likely won't get your job back."

"Three months." He grit his teeth. "I have to set a goal, Bones. I have to do this. I have to get out of this."

She was glad to see the spark ignite. But it was too much to hope for. Especially considering his condition. She put her hand over his. "Lets just get through tomorrow first."

"I'll do it," he mumbled his promise. Rapidly he was drifting off. "I swear."

"I believe you." And she did. But she also knew how life worked. How his mind worked post abduction. She'd do what she could to help him. But words were words. Actions spoke louder. Tentatively she allowed herself to embrace him. Together they fell asleep.

* * *

In the morning she was up before he was. She let him sleep, but checked on him from time to time. How sick he was became more and more apparent. He barely moved. If Brennan hadn't of known better she would have thought he was dead.

Which was why the phone rang she about pounced on it. Dr. Connor! At last! "What results do you have?" She answered, not bothering with a hello.

Dr. Connor was caught off guard. "Well, um, heh. Good morning to you, too. As you know all the tests aren't back yet. But what I have discovered thus far… well… being a scientist, you're not going to like it."

"Just tell me!" She snapped in a dark voice.

"There is nothing wrong with him. All his tests came back negative. According to the data we have he's a mostly healthy man."

Brennan was in shock. She found a chair to sit herself down in. "He's having seizures. His speech is slurred. You're wrong." _Second opinion, _she was already telling herself.

"Well, Doctor, I have conferred with some friends of mine who are psychologists. What they believe is happening to him is purely psychological. Have you heard of the expression, "dying of a broken heart?"

"The heart can't break. Your anecdote is incorrect."

"There's new research out there that suggests someone can die from intense mental trauma. A "broken heart." If he isn't dealing with what happened to him properly then it's obviously starting to affect his health. I recommend taking him to a psychologist immediately."

Brennan hung up feeling disturbed. This couldn't be right. Could it? Booth was dealing… sort of. Could post traumatic stress really be killing him?

She went back into the bedroom and sat down by his side. His breathing was shallow, with his lips parted like he couldn't breathe enough oxygen into his lungs. Over his arm she ran her fingertips. In his sleep he tensed up as always. Froze. His breathing paused before resuming. While things had changed, improved even, a lot remained needing to be fixed.

_This is ludicrous, _she told herself as she looked down at her cell phone once again. _I don't believe in this. _She punched a few buttons. _But if it helps him, then I'll take the chance._


	33. There Is Hope

"I brought some tea. Chamomile, to be exact."

Brennan opened the door, smiling widely in relief to see Dr. "Gordon, Gordon" Wyatt standing in her door way. She moved aside to allow him access. He strode in with an air of ease. "I thought it would be calming. I do imagine we have much to discuss."

Brennan merely nodded. She shut the door behind him. "Did you see all of his files?"

Dr. Wyatt sighed. "Yes, I have. He's been put through the ringer, hasn't he?"

"Yes. Please, sit," she invited. From her kitchen cupboard she retrieved two mugs. Dr. Wyatt had brought his tea in a thermos. Politely she poured them both a cup, then sat down across from him.

"Now, I've read numerous reports written about him inside and out. I would like to hear what has happened to him in your own words."

The thoughts that came to mind drew tears to her eyes. She told him everything of the months that had passed. The addiction. The self abuse. The more than one "last chance" chances. And lastly, the seizures. "His doctor says he's killing himself. "

"He's made more than one suicide attempt?"

"Yes, but this is different. I don't think he is consciously aware of what is happening to him." _He's retreating to a place where I can't save him. _"I don't think he understands that not attempting to make peace with what happened to him is literally destroying him. He's had two seizures, and I fear he's going to have more before this is over." A tear fell. "He's trying, Dr. Wyatt. He's made small improvements. But he just balks at the core issues."

"So you called me thinking I may be of help?"

Wiping her eyes, she nodded. "I don't understand any of this so I'm not any help. But I'm willing to do anything. I love him."

Dr. Wyatt broke into a wide smile. "It's about time you realized that." Though his smile was short lived when she added, "but he won't let me love him. He lets me close, but not inside. I think he feels he doesn't deserve it."

He frowned. "Abuse victims can feel as such. So he's shutting you out?"

"He says there is darkness in him that he doesn't want me to see. He won't talk to me because he doesn't want me living his pain. I can't make him understand that I already am. I've lost him."

Just then they heard a noise in the bedroom. Brennan was on her feet before Dr. Wyatt. She sprinted inside to find Booth in the grips of another seizure. Immediately she was holding him in her arms while his tensed body nearly shook itself loose. Dr. Wyatt said nothing. He simply observed.

Once it ended it was as though Booth melted into her. His head lolled. His muscles turned flaccid. He again didn't find his way back to an alert state. _It's as though he's gone, _she thought to herself fearfully.

"This is what he does?"

"Yes. He likely won't come out of this for an hour, if not more. And sometimes he lapses into another one before he's woken from the first one." She looked down at him. With tenderness she ran her fingers through his hair. "Can you save him?"

Even Dr. Wyatt looked overwhelmed. "I can't save him. The only one who can save him is himself."

"But you can help?"

"I'll certainly talk to him, Dr. Brennan. Try to get him to speak about the real issues. But you should know-"

"I know the disclaimers." Back down at Booth she gazed. "But I have to try. I can't give up on him."

* * *

Booth indeed took several hours to find his way back. He stumbled out from the bedroom into the kitchen where Dr. Wyatt and Brennan had both seated themselves back at her kitchen table. He froze in his tracks when he saw his former therapist. An expression of unease made him wince. His eyes then bore into Brennan's. She could read the word on his mind. _Betrayed._

"Agent Booth," Dr. Wyatt greeted him as though he didn't notice the tension that had suddenly filled the room. "It's good to see you… awake."

Booth merely nodded. His reaction was actually surprising to Brennan. His dismissal to Sweets hadn't been shocking. But Booth had repeated many times in the past how Dr. Wyatt had been the only doctor to ever make sense to him. He trusted the man completely. "Yeah," he grunted.

"So Dr. Brennan has been telling me of the trouble you've had recently."

"Figured."

"Why don't we talk a walk outside, hmm? Get some fresh air?"

"I can barely get around." He protested, already backing away.

"Well I presume your legs work. Come on now, man!"

Booth knew he was defeated before he began. Brennan had upped the playing field. It was now two against one. He went back into the bedroom and emerged dressed in jeans and a shirt.

Dr. Wyatt had already risen from his chair. "Come along, then. Dr. Brennan, we'll be back shortly."

Brennan was relieved the doctor was getting Booth out of the apartment. Although judging by Booth's cold, hard glare he _wasn't _so happy to be doing so. He trailed sluggishly behind as Dr. Wyatt led the way outside. Once they were out the door he stopped. Booth stopped behind him. He didn't say a single word. But his eyes were already scooping the parking lot for potential threats.

"You're still a solider, Agent Booth."

He raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Yes. You're just a different sort now." The man strode away, leaving Booth intrigued. Naturally he followed, which was just what Dr. Wyatt had planned. "What do you mean?"

"Your reaction once you got outside was to look around before proceeding forward."

"Yeah." Booth was unimpressed. "What's your point?"

"The point is you're still in a war. Only its with yourself now."

_Damn it. _Booth exhaled. This was why he hadn't been thrilled upon seeing his old friend. He didn't want to be pushed, even if he knew it needed to be done. Why couldn't they just let him heal in his own time? _Because you're not. You're still running away._

"Agent Booth?"

He hadn't realized he'd slipped into a trance until Dr. Wyatt said his name. He blinked himself back into reality with troubling eyes. Dr. Wyatt frowned. "Nothing that happened to you was your fault."

"I know that."

"I'm not so sure. Dr. Brennan feels the same way."

Booth sat himself down on the edge of the street curb. They were only steps from the apartment building and already he was spent. Dr. Wyatt stood next to him. "You were attacked. You were abused. You were held against your will and forced into acts you didn't want to commit. You were driven to the brink. In fact, I'd say you were pushed off the edge."

Booth didn't say anything. His jaw tightened. He looked out at the horizon.

"And you look at you. You're still a mess. Why are you letting her continue to control you and your life?"

No one had ever actually _asked _him that. A long moment passed before he gave an answer. "I don't know anything else anymore. I don't know how to be myself. How to have a normal life. How to feel happy. That person who was me died a long time ago." He looked up at him. "I'm just what's left."

"That's simply not true, Agent Booth."

"I go back and forth between being so determined I'm going to break out of this depression, then finding myself feeling like I wished she'd kill me. I wish I had the strength to kill myself."

"That wouldn't be an answer, and you know it."

"Yeah." He sighed, though Dr. Wyatt could tell in his heart the man didn't completely believe it.

"I think before you can work out your issues, you need to work on finding you."

"What do you mean?"

"Well now, how do you expect to help yourself when you don't even know who you are? It tends to make things very difficult."

Booth could see his point. "So what do I do?"

"Every day do something you once found pleasure in. Whatever you choose. Maybe start exercising."

Booth gestured to where he was sitting. "I can barely walk."

"I am fairly certain that once your seizures stop and your muscles strengthen you will be back to top physical peak. I'll make sure you get some medication to manage these episodes of yours. No matter how you feel, Booth, there is always hope. You must remember that."

"Hope," he repeated in a whisper. It tasted foreign on his tongue. But he was willing to believe.


	34. Beginnings And Endings

The next few weeks were a time of dramatic change for the two. Calling Dr. Wyatt had seemed to do the trick, just as Brennan had hoped. A few days had to pass, however, before the triggers got moving in Booth. For the first few days he kept himself completely isolated away from her. It worried her immensely. But she coaxed herself into letting herself trust him. There wouldn't ever be any hope for him if she couldn't let him go and wish for the best. The few times she managed to run into him she saw how lost inside himself he was. His eyes had changed. A faraway glaze formed over them for a few minutes at a time before he would snap back. When he caught her watching him he'd offer a slight smile before disappearing again.

She was all the more concerned when he had his "moments," which from what she could judge were coming on frequently. What was he doing when he'd slip into his daze? What if he was in the middle of doing something he needed to be paying attention to, such as driving? Then again, she'd taken his keys away months ago and he'd never asked for them. Driving was one of the many things he'd seem to lost interest in.

At night he sometimes laid with her. She never engaged him. She never said a word to him unless he spoke first. With Dr. Wyatt's help she'd decided it was best to let him come to her. He needed to figure out his own demons. And when he was ready to talk, she'd be there to listen.

During those nights he spent with her he more often than not woke her with a terrifying nightmare. She'd feel his body jerking around besides her. He couldn't make a sound, but his heavy breathing would give him away. It took everything in her not to wake him. To comfort him. This was what Dr. Wyatt had suggested. She didn't understand, but followed his directions to the letter. Even if it hurt at the moment she was willing to do anything for him.

Then, at last, he broke through to the other side. Brennan woke one morning to find him gone from her apartment. Peacefully she laid, selfishly enjoying the silence. Then a thought made her bolt upright in bed. If he wasn't in the apartment… then where was he? And most importantly, what was he _doing? _Had her actions caused a reverse effect? Had he left her to attempt something dangerous? Frightfully she scurried out of bed.

While dressing she noticed an outfit of his was gone. As were his shoes. Brennan didn't pay attention to what she was putting on. Her mind when on autopilot while she rapidly dressed herself in the first pair of pants and shirt she could find. She hopped to the door while pulling on running shoes. In her purse she located her car keys. But it was there she stopped. Where would he go? His apartment? The bureau? Amanda's house? Well, it didn't matter right then. She could think about it out in the car.

She opened the front door to find Booth standing on her doorstep. His entire body was heaving with shuddering breaths. Both his forehead and face were sweaty. Exhaustion hazed over his eyes.

"Booth?" Her voice was a shrill panic. "What did you…" She ended her sentence upon taking in his clothes. He had on a old shirt, jogging pants, and athletic shoes. Her eyes widened. He'd gone for a run. He'd actually exercised.

"I just…" he panted. "I wanted to… I needed to…"

She smiled harder then she had in a while.

"I used to…" he continued. "I liked to…"

"Run." She finished for him.

He nodded. "I still like it… but I'm slow… out of shape."

"That'll change. The more you do it, the stronger you'll get."

He swallowed. His breath was coming back gradually. "I want to get stronger. I've been thinking."

This was exactly what she'd hoped for. She moved aside to let him in. There was no use standing and talking in the doorway. He took her silent invitation. Weakly he limped over the threshold. Brennan tried to help him to the couch. He held up a hand to refuse it. She didn't insist. Instead she felt a strange sense of pride as he got himself to her couch and laid down. His gaze rose up to hers. "I want to live, Bones," he said quietly. "I really do. I don't want to feel miserable any more. Running… it gave me back something I thought I'd lost. I _liked _it. I didn't realize how much I missed it until I was down the street."

Brennan knelt down besides him. She couldn't keep her eyes from tearing up. "We'll find more to do that you enjoy. We'll find _you _again."

He noticed her expression. "Bones," he rolled onto his side and pushed himself up onto one elbow. "Are you crying?"

"No." She sniffed. "I'm simply experiencing a moment of-"

"You're crying." He argued. "What is it?"

She hated to admit the truth, but did so anyways. "I thought this would never happen. I thought I'd lost you permanently."

His voice was small. "I'm here, Bones. I'm not letting her take anything more away from me."

Tears finally broke from her eyes. They cascaded down her cheek. He sat up more to pull her close to him in an embrace. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, not noticing for the first time the sharp feel of his bones underneath his skin. He wiped away her tears with his thumb. "Don't cry," he whispered to her. "It's all going to be okay."

Impulsively she kissed him, an action she regretted immediately after doing it. She felt Booth shy away for a moment. Then he came back stronger. His arms tightened their grasp on her.

That night they ended up making love for the first time ever. And once they were finished, Booth dozed off besides her, completely unafraid.

* * *

Things seemed to get better from then on out. Booth recovered a step every day a bit more. Every morning he woke up early to go for a run. The conditioning was bringing back the tone to his body. Muscles began to form once again. His appetite was also returning. Brennan sometimes felt like she couldn't get enough food in him. She nearly wept when he'd asked her to bring him some pie one afternoon on her way out the door.

He gave in and began taking antidepressants at Dr. Wyatt's strong urging. "Why hasn't he been on them before?" The doctor had asked Brennan.

She went on to explain about the drug withdrawal. "I think now he's afraid it will hamper his chances of getting back to work."

"We'll deal with the FBI when that time comes. For now, we need to get him feeling well enough to even think about getting back to that job."

And so Booth began to flourish. But it wasn't to say that he didn't still have his demons. He still disappeared for sometimes hours at a time. She'd catch him with a few fresh wounds on his arm, but now he was quick to admit it. He'd still slip into periodic episodes, where he'd stare off at nothing as a nightmarish memory flashed through his mind. Nothing Brennan could say or do helped in these moments. It was hard lesson she'd at last learned.

Their love life also thrived. There were still moments in which he hesitated around Brennan. Especially during their more intimate relations. But for the most part he was learning to allow himself to be touched again, in both a friendly and loving manner.

Together they slept in each other's arms every night. There were still nights in which he suffered from nightmares. Often times he'd gasp before shaking violently. Once in a while his hands would rub or scratch at a different part of his body. Brennan would hold him close during these times. He'd come to with her hand resting on his chest, her touch an attempt to soothe the hammering of his heart.

After a month or so of improvement Brennan allowed herself to return to work for a few hours at a time. One afternoon Booth even dared to come with her. Their friends had welcomed him with open, ecstatic arms. Despite being his friends Booth had still been nervous about their reaction, as well as his own. But it was clear within minutes that he was at ease. A smile lit up his face. His rigid statue softened. After the visit he was flat out exhausted. But he and Brennan both still felt it was a triumph.

Every morning Brennan awoke with a renewed feeling of happiness and energy. Booth being in recovery had seemed to put herself in a sort of recovery, as well. Suddenly she couldn't wait to work again. Although she didn't enjoy it nearly as well as she did working with Booth to put criminals away, she still took pleasure in returning to her roots working with ancient remains and ruins.

One particular morning she woke to Booth still sleeping besides her. She watched over him with confusion. In the mornings Booth was always up before her to go running. It was unusual to find him still in bed. "Booth? Aren't you running?" She shook him.

"Not this morning."

She held her breath. There would always be a part of her that feared him falling back into his old ways.

As if he could sense it, he added, "iz okay. Jus' tired."

His voice was slurred, with all his words running into themselves. She chalked it up to him being exhausted. He'd built stamina, and was managing to run ten miles a day. No doubt he was tired. Or wanted a day off. She kissed his forehead. "I'm going to work a few hours."

He had already fallen back asleep. Brennan readied herself for the day, then slipped out of the apartment undetected. All morning she kept herself occupied with her work. She was so busy, in fact, that she didn't notice Booth had never called her until she was getting ready to leave. However, she didn't think much of it. It was only one in the afternoon. For all she knew he could have still been sleeping.

She stopped off to pick up a late lunch for them on the way home. At last she walked in the apartment to find it pin drop silent. "Booth?" She called, noticing the silence as she shut the door behind her. "I'm back."

Only quiet conceived her.

Something inside her told her to be concerned. But she didn't pay attention to it. Surely Booth was still sleeping. Maybe he'd been more wiped out than she'd thought. Across the apartment she walked over to her bedroom. Down the hall just before her bathroom she came to an abrupt stop. Her breath was stolen out of her lungs.

At her feet lay Booth, unconscious and unmoving. Brennan dropped down to one knee to check his pulse. She was relieved to feel his heart beating, but scared to find it was sluggish. He had blood on his lips and in his mouth. The room tilted out of control around her while she retrieved her phone to dial for paramedics. Numbly after reporting their address she disconnected the call and dropped the phone down to her side. She couldn't hardly focus on a thought. Her fingers remained pressed into neck to keep monitor over his heart beat.

What had happened? Had he done something? Taken something? Brennan shook the thought away. No. He'd been happy. Happier than he'd been in a long time. Happy people didn't attempt to harm themselves; to take their lives.

Unless he'd been faking it for exactly this reason.

_No, _she felt a surge of anger towards herself. _He's been better. You know he has. _A warm rush crept over her as she thought of the passionate sex they'd had. Of him always being able to handle the emotions that came with it. That had been the true test in her eyes. One he'd passed every time.

The possibilities of what happened, and what could happen, left her scared to death. Scared of his death.


	35. Fight Of His Life

Brennan felt completely and totally numb. It started on her outer surface. She was having a hard time reining in the emotions she already kept on a tight leash. But the loss of feeling, of reality, seeped further than that. It dipped down below her skin and muscle and invaded her very bones. She could have stubbed her toe and never noticed. Nothing of the outside world penetrated her conscious. Her thoughts were wrapped around Booth, and Booth only.

She waited for hours in the waiting room at the near by hospital. She resented being here yet again. Resented the same doctors and nurses. The same looks of sympathy. The intensity of their smiles only grew to be more unbearable. She couldn't help herself but to glare back. Screw their sympathy. All she cared about was getting help for her partner.

Booth hadn't woken at the scene. He'd stayed limp as a rag doll in her arms even after paramedics had begun treatment on him. His body had turned slightly cold in her grasp. His features were so pale that he looked as though someone had painted his face. Something serious had happened. Or he'd done something serious. But she still refused to believe that. Even after a paramedic had subtly suggested Booth's state was self inflicted, she refused to believe.

She was stooped over in her usual post sitting inside a waiting room chair. Her arms she held around herself. She thought back to that morning, to Booth's behavior. Whatever had happened to seem must have started over night. But had there really been something wrong? Or had he just been tired as she originally suspected? A deep sigh rose from her belly. _He has to be all right. _

A young, baby faced doctor Brennan had never seen before approached her with a clipboard. "You're with Seeley Booth, right?"

"What do you know?" She snapped back at him.

"Right now, not much. We're running some diagnostics-"

Brennan leapt to her feet. "That's it? I've been waiting for hours!"

"I know. I apologize."

She exhaled sadly. The fight inside her had dissipated just as fast as it had appeared. "Do you know _anything_?"

"It's been determined that he collapsed and had a seizure, during which he bit his tongue and bled. But I'm actually here to find out anything you might know. I'm Doctor Daniels." He offered her his hand.

She ignored it. She wasn't interested in so much as learning his name until he proved himself to her. She'd had enough of doctors. "What do you need to know?"

"I understand he was abducted, tortured, sexually abused-"

"What about it?"

"How has he been in his recovery?"

"I'm sure it's all in your notes." She gestured to his clipboard.

"Yes. But I'm wondering if there's anything that hasn't been mentioned in his history. Something you might know about. Has there been anything out of the ordinary, even for him?"

Brennan had no idea what he was fishing for. "Everything has been out of the ordinary!" She was seething. Why did they keep ending up with these doctors? "He never had seizures or hallucinations before all this!"

Dr. Daniels' head perked up. "Hallucinations?"

"Yes! He sees and hears the woman who tortured him."

His pen was flying across lined paper. "Does he lose consciousness when this happens?"

"No. But he becomes removed from his surroundings. He isn't aware I'm with him. Sometimes I can get him back by providing him with my physical contact."

"But not always?"

Sadly, she admitted, "no." She continued to watch him. "You think this has something to do with his mind."

He agreed. "It could very well be a part of it. We won't know more until his tests return."

"But I've been told seizures can be a result of trauma. Of post traumatic stress disorder."

"And it's an excellent theory. I hope it's true."

So far the doctor wasn't winning any points with her. "Are you done with him? Can I see him?"

"Right this way."

* * *

Booth laid dorment between comatose and consciousness. He could hear everything going on around him; the bustle of doctors, the chatter of nurses. He could hear lives being lived, despite being where they were. But he simply couldn't respond to any of it. His jaw was grinding into his top teeth in pain. Doctors had given him the strongest, safest dose of painkillers that they could. It had only taken a slight edge off. The bulk of the pain still throbbed in his head like a time bomb.

It'd started the night before. Booth had gotten up from a late afternoon nap with a slight headache. He hadn't mentioned it to Brennan. It was just a headache. Besides, he'd worried her enough to last a lifetime. Something so insignificant wasn't worth bringing up. So he'd just dealt with it. Luckily he'd been able to sleep over night without any problems. When he woke to go running, however, the pain had intensified. _Forget running, _he'd thought to himself. _One day off won't kill you. Besides, you got good reason. _

Again, he didn't tell Brennan, preferring to play it off as though he were tired. Which actually, he had been. He'd laid for a while after she'd left. Then the pain became unbearable. He decided he needed to eat and take something to try and dull the pounding in his head. In the kitchen he'd managed to choke down a few bites of a cheese sandwich. The entire time his stomach protested with nausea. Afterwards he headed towards the bathroom to wash down some aspirin. From there the last thing he remembered was passing by their bedroom. The rest was erased from his memory. He'd woken paralyzed by pain, unable to do so much as think or speak. Opening his eyes was a chore in itself.

Through the fog he could hear footsteps. They sounded much like Brennan's shoes, which how he knew the sound of was baffling. His attention was quickly taken away as a voice spoke seemingly out of thin air. _I told you so._

Booth froze. He began to tremble. No. Not again. With a groan he forced himself to open his eyes. There on his bed Amanda sat next to him. Only it barely resembled her. Her ghost, or whatever she was, was decomposing. There was a bloody hole in her chest from the bullet wound he'd inflicted on her. Her white skin was paper thin, with the outline of bone showing in more than one spot. But her eyes, and her smile, were just as sickly evil as ever. _I told you I'd left something for you. Inside you. I told you you'd die. _She leaned in close to him. He was so far gone that he could smell the vile scent of her rotting skin. _I _will _win. Do you hear me?_

He grunted fast paced breaths. _You won't win anything. I've come too far to just let go._

She leaned in so that her face was inches from him. Her putrid breath nearly made him gag. _Then you'll be in for a real fight._

Booth never noticed Brennan enter the room. She was surprised to find him awake. She stood back in the doorway to observe his behavior. He was in pain. She could tell immediately by how tightly his muscles were clenched. Had he been before and she just hadn't noticed? As she drew closer she could see he was glaring with half opened eyes in pure hatred at the wall. He was hallucinating again. Sighing, she reached for his hand. "Booth, I'm here."

He didn't notice. He didn't even feel her touch.

Amanda was still going on. _You can't fight this. You can't stop what's already inside you. The poison running through your veins. _She stroked a finger along his jaw. He roughly turned his head away. His breathing was becoming more sporadic. Minute by minute he was growing weaker. _I can. I will. I'm not giving up._

Suddenly his head fell back against his pillow. Amanda faded away into thin air. Booth's eyes rolled, frightening Brennan. She tightened her grip on his hand. "Booth, talk to me."

It was only by chance that he looked at her. But the vacant look in his eyes told her he wasn't seeing anything. "What happened to you?"

In response he grimaced. He breathed in through his teeth, trying to get himself through another strong blast of pain. A strange sort of sound came from his throat. His head lolled on his pillow. His eyes squeezed shut.

Brennan tried to keep her tears from pouring out. "Lose consciousness," she quietly begged him. "Go away from the pain, Booth."

For once he obeyed. It wasn't too long after she said that that he slipped into a coma like sleep. His breathing righted itself. His muscles even relaxed. But the pain was still written all over his face.

"We'll figure this out." She promised him. It was another battle towards the end of the war. Booth was a solider through and through. He'd fight his way through this just as he had every other battle in his life. Now that they had broken through the barriers that had been restraining him for so long, she had faith that he'd prevail. If only they could find out what was wrong…


	36. Still No Answers

Booth slept on for the rest of Brennan's time with him. She remaining diligently at his side, watching over him with a heavy heart. Doctors and nurses came and went. No one spoke much to her. They checked his stats. Gathered information and wrote it down in his chart. One doctor spent a good portion of time looking over the notes made in his medical record. He finished only to look up at Brennan. With a shake of his head he returned the chart back to where he'd found it. Then he excused himself from the room without another glance. But she'd already seen it; the expression on his face. His suspicions seemed to be the same as everyone else's. Brennan had witnessed it in all of Booth's medical staff. The whispers thrown around in the halls outside his room weren't as quiet as they thought.

The general consensus was that Booth had a brain tumor. Looking at him, it was hard for Brennan to disagree. She mentally forced herself to go back months and reexamine his behavior. All this time she'd been sure he'd just been suffering from post traumatic stress disorder. That explained the sudden mood shifts, the hallucinations, and all that had come with it. Now she wondered if at the time she should have insisted more testing be done. But out of all the hospital visits they'd had for all of the various problems and self inflicted abuse, wouldn't _someone _have noticed _something _out of place? After he'd attempted to end his life by a bullet to the head hadn't scans been done to check for any damage?

She'd never seen those scans. She'd just trusted that they'd been performed. Now she felt the flame of anger being stroked as she wondered if they'd ever been done at all. _Could it be that since the bullet only skimmed his forehead they didn't see the need? _There was a need. It should have been done.

Upon visiting hours ending Brennan sought out Dr. Daniels. She found him inside the nurses' station looking at a chart. Brazenly she let herself inside and marched up to him. "I want to see Booth's brain scans."

"Dr. Brennan! You're not supposed to be back here!"

"I want to see his MRIs, his CT's, whatever you have."

"We haven't performed any-"

"His old ones."

Dr. Daniels inhaled. "I would be glad to show them to you tomorrow, after we run the new set and have something to compare them to."

She narrowed her eyes. "But tests were done?"

"Yes."

Satisfied, she left for the night. At home she tried to relax, but echoes of him were everywhere. She crawled into bed only to toss and turn fitfully for hours. Finally she fell into a light sleep dreaming of suing every doctor they'd ever come into contact with during the course of Booth's recovery. She awoke with a smile on her face.

As soon as visiting hours began Brennan was straight back in Booth's room. She walked in this time to find him half awake. She sighed in relief. The episode was over. Perhaps now they could get some real answers from him. "Booth." She touched the back of his hand.

It didn't take long to see something was still very wrong. The action of him turning to look at her was delayed. His eyes carried that same vacant stare, but now there was something different about it. She stepped in closer, bowing her head to his and staring straight into his eyes. There was a fogginess she hadn't glimpsed in him for quite some time. Not since… _they sedated him. _

She stomped straight away to the nurses' station. "I want to speak to Dr. Daniels. _Now._"

"He's not on this unit at the-"

"Then page him. Get him here." She turned away. On her way back to his room she heard a nurse calling for the man.

By the time Dr. Daniels arrived some ten minutes later Brennan's rage had hit a boiling point. There was nothing but hate in her eyes as she strode up to him and nearly knocked him down. "You sedated him! You _drugged _him!"

"He was having a severe anxiety attack while we were performing an MRI-"

"He has problems with sedatives!" _He was an addict. _"He tried to kill himself with sedatives. Did you read his notes at all? Are you competent enough to at least be able to do that?"

"Dr. Brennan!" He exclaimed. "We needed to get the shots."

"There were other ways, other drugs, you could have used to calm him!"

"I took his situation into consideration and made a decision at what I thought was best at the time. We got what we needed, and now he can sleep it off. He's safe."

Brennan said no more. She knew "safe" was a relative term concerning Booth. She sat herself down opposite him. Dr. Daniels scurried from the room. Her heart was still pounding in anger. That emotion changed gradually into sorrow. She couldn't stop herself from beginning to cry.

"Don't cry," Booth slurred in a tired whisper.

She near jumped in surprise. "Booth?"

He half smiled.

She leaned over his bed side and kissed him. "Booth, I-" She didn't know how to put into words how she felt without sounding foolish.

"Just a little headache," he insisted while his eyes were closing.

* * *

It took a full twenty four hours before Booth's test results came back. Dr. Daniels brought Brennan into his office. He showed her all the discouraging results and reports. Yet again no one had been able to turn up anything. His scans were normal, with there being little difference between tests. "How can this be?" She questioned.

"We're just as confused. There is something obviously plaguing him, and I'm sorry, but I really believe its physical in origin. There's something going on that's remaining unseen."

Brennan set the report she'd been reading back onto his desk top. "So what do we do?"

"I'm going to refer you to a specialist in Las Vegas." Dr. Daniels wrote down a name and phone number. "I want you to see him. Maybe he can uncover some possibilities we couldn't."

She could barely let herself hope.

Booth was released a few hours later. Around him she was mostly silent. Together they went home. He trudged into the apartment to sit down right away on her couch. Brennan discreetly stole away into her bedroom and dialed the number Dr. Daniels gave her.

"Dr. Kaplan's office," a woman with a nasally voice answered.

Brennan attempted to set up an appointment. The soonest one the specialist had was in two weeks. "Two weeks?" she exclaimed.

"Dr. Kaplan is very busy."

She opened her door to peek out at Booth. He could barely hold his up just watching television. Could they afford to waste two weeks? "Fine," she blurted. Waiting two weeks would be awful. But if this doctor was able to discover something no one else had or could then it would be worth it. "But call if there are any cancellations."

She joined Booth back in the living room. Cartoons were playing on the television she noticed as she sat down next to him. "We're going to see a specialist in two weeks."

"I know." He said indifferently. Very carefully he wiggled his body so that he was affectionately leaning against her. He didn't seem to care about anything except being with her. And so she accepted him into her arms, laying his head in her lap and stroking his forehead. He watched her for a while before murmuring, "it's gonna be okay, Bones."

Hearing him sound so positive after spending so many months in negativity upset her, though in a good way. He saw the affect his words had on her. He rose his head and kissed her. "I promise."

She believed him. But she'd also seen him flinch the moment he'd lifted his head.


	37. Leaving On A Jet Plane

The next few weeks were indeed some of the hardest. Every time the phone rang Brennan checked it with hope that it was Dr. Kaplan's office calling with a cancellation. Each time she was let down. That didn't stop her. Often she looked at her phone even when she knew it hadn't rung, just in case she'd missed a call. However, that wasn't what was making the wait so difficult. It was actually Booth himself.

For the first few days he was back home he still rose early to go running. He then abruptly quit a few days later without providing Brennan with much of an explanation why. She feared the truth, and so she left it alone. Sometimes ignorance was bliss. Right then and there she needed to hold onto the hope that she could help him. That everything she was trying wasn't in vain.

Booth woke early every morning anyway just to be awake. She couldn't fathom how he was able to, since she knew his intolerable pain was the worst first thing in the morning. Still day after day he pushed himself. He ate through terrible bouts of nausea. He remained completely positive, holding them together when she was struggling. More than once he took her into his arms and just held her, providing silent comfort when really, it should have been the other way around. It was that selflessness that was killing her. She knew he was holding back a good portion of his battle in his silent fight. "How are you feeling?" She'd ask him.

If he answered at all it was usually something along the lines of, "I'm all right, Bones. Don't worry about me."

It was impossible not to. The seizures didn't stop. In those two weeks he had two more cluster episodes, in which he wouldn't wake from one seizure before starting another. After each one he slept for nearly two days straight.

The hallucinations were also stronger than ever. He'd unblinkingly stare straight ahead of himself without ever saying a word. For Brennan, he didn't need to. Just seeing his facial expressions alerted her he was gone. Several times a day she'd lose him to his own deliria. Sometimes even in the middle of a conversation. The hard cold fact was that whatever was going on with him, be it emotional or physical, it was getting worse.

The night before they were due to leave Angela came to visit for a while. The three of them sat together in the living room with glasses of wine. The conversation was kept light, filled mostly with jokes and happier memories from the past. After a while Booth excused himself. Both women waited for him to head into the bedroom. He appeared worn out and they were sure he was headed to lay his tired body down. Instead he surprised them both by slipping on shoes and going out the door.

"How's he doing?" Angela asked Brennan. "Really."

Brennan's eyes pooled with tears. "It's difficult."

Angela widened her eyes in shock. "He's being difficult?"

"No. He's being altruistic." She shook her head. "He keeps what he's going through from me. I don't know how he really is because he won't let on. We worked so hard to get him to this place, Ange. And now I just wish he'd get upset." She dropped her voice down to a whisper. "It'd be easier."

Angela took a hold of Brennan's hand and squeezed it. Then she went outside after Booth. She located him just outside Brennan's apartment building. He was leaning against a pillar attached to the overhang looming over the front entrance. His head was bowed into his hands. The muscles through his shoulders were clenched. Tenderly Angela touched his back.

Booth jumped. He whirled around breathlessly. Until he saw it was Angela he was ready to fight. His fists dropped back down to his sides. "Sorry."

"No, I'm sorry. I should have known better."

"No. I should be over it by now." He turned his back on her again to return to his place. Angela walked around to face him. "No, Booth. I'm not sure it's something you'll ever completely be over." She was sure of it, actually.

He didn't say much. He grimaced, putting his head back into his hands and closing his eyes. His breaths followed a harsh but steady rhythm. Angela could see he was in an extreme amount of pain. "Booth, you should let her see you like this. She can't help if she doesn't know."

"I've done research. I've looked up all my symptoms online. It's a brain tumor."

"You don't know that. The tests your doctors ran didn't show it."

"I'm dying," he insisted. "And after all the Hell I put Bones through for so many months she doesn't need to see this."

"Booth, she already knows something's really wrong."

"Amanda's finally getting her way." He muttered.

"What?"

"Amanda. The woman who…"

"I know who she is."

"She keeps telling me I'm going to die."

Angela gawked at him. "Telling you? Like, present tense?"

"I see her. She's standing right behind you right now."

Angela turned. Nothing was behind her but air. Worriedly she focused her attention back on Booth.

"She's always there, telling me I'm a coward. Telling me she's going to kill me; that whatever I got going on is because she's causing it. She'll kill me for killing her."

"She's a hallucination, Booth. She's not real."

"That's what they keep telling me."

"You don't believe it?"

"Sometimes."

Angela didn't know what to make of their conversation. She made a decision never to tell Brennan about it. "He's slipping," she mumbled to herself as she headed back inside.

Finally their date of departure for Las Vegas came. Together they woke up early and packed their luggage. They took a cab to the airport. Two hours were wasted running through various security check points. At last they were granted access to the plane. Brennan took Booth's hand in her own and led him to First Class. Booth smiled to himself. Brennan couldn't help but to share it. If that was all it took to make him smile then she wouldn't take it for granted. The two settled down into their seats.

"Are you nervous, Booth?"

"No." He blew her off. "Why would I be?"

"If Dr. Kaplan really is as good as Dr. Daniels seems to think, we might finally understand what's going on with you."

"But that's good, right? So why would I be nervous?"

"What if whatever happening to you is… terrible?" _Fatal._

He shrugged a little. His turned his head away from her and looked out the window. Brennan spent a good long minute studying him. She was always known as the calculated cold one. Booth was always the warm emotional one. So why was he changing up their roles? What did he know that she didn't?

By the time the plane was ready to depart he was sound asleep. Brennan took his hand into her own. She affectionately rubbed the skin over his knuckles. She watched his face while he slept, glad to see he was finding peace. Her own eyes closed despite the bumpy ride of the plane launching itself up into the air. She relaxed enough to slip into a light sleep. Yet it wasn't long before she was awaken again. Booth's hand suddenly clamped onto her own. The muscles in his arm tightened. As a matter of fact his entire body tensed up.

"Booth?" She under toned.

His eyes opened. He breathed deeply. "Yeah. I'll be right back." Before she could question him he unbuckled his seatbelt. Dizzily he searched through the cabin until he found the bathroom. Inside he locked the door behind him. Then he collapsed straight to the plastic-like floor with his head in his hands. He gasped for oxygen so quickly he entertained the thought of hyperventilating. "Come on," he sighed out loud. "You can't get sick here."

The pain in his head increased in its intensity the higher the plane traveled. A sharp pain throbbed in his skull, feeling much as though someone was stabbing him repeatedly with a kitchen knife. _How am I going to survive this flight like this?_

Amanda knelt down next to him. "You're not." She smirked.

"Go away," He groaned. "I can't deal with you right now." His vision faded in and out.

"You'll always have to deal with me."

They both were startled by a knock at the door. "Booth? It's me." Brennan. "Are you all right?"

Booth hissed out a long breath. Great. He didn't want her there. Not with this going on. He'd made a vow to stay strong in front of her. But that strength was gone. He made a small cry of pain as the headache worsened.

"Please open up." She begged.

He couldn't get himself up off the floor. It took all the strength he could muster to push the lock on the door with his fingers. Then he fell face first onto his stomach. There he laid as Brennan flung the door open, too exhausted to get himself back up.

She fell to her knees immediately. "Booth!" Very carefully she helped him back up into a sitting position, leaning his back against the bathroom wall. She touched his face, his neck. Both were raging with heat. "What's going on? What can I do?"

There was nothing she could do and they both knew it. Brennan was just as helpless as he was. It wasn't as though she could stop the flight to let them off.

Amanda appeared again behind Brennan's shoulder. "That's right. Show her how weak you really are."

He tried to push himself up just to spite her. His muscles instantly quit on him.

"Don't. Stay down." Brennan cautioned.

"I'm sorry," he breathed.

She pulled him into her arms and held him tightly.


	38. Dr Kaplan vs Amanda

Booth only started to improve after the plane descended down through the air to land on the runway. Brennan helped him up to his feet. They managed to get back to their seats just in time. By the time the plane's tires touched down on the ground Booth was bright eyed once again, with the color back in his features. Brennan tilted her head and gaped at him. What on earth had happened? A panic attack? For hours? Could panic attacks last for hours? She'd never seen him have a similar episode. If something was physically wrong with his mind, did the change in air pressure have something to do with it? She just didn't know what to think.

The strange incident still took its toll on him. He was completely strung out, going through the motions until they stepped over the threshold of their hotel room. There he broke himself away from Brennan. He took the time to hang up his coat and pull off his shoes. Then he sought out the bedroom where he collapsed on top of the sheets. He was asleep almost instantaneously.

Brennan left him undisturbed. She called Booth's array of doctors over seeing his case and informed them of the episode on the plane. She even called Wyatt. "Could it have been a panic attack?"

"Possibly." She could hear hesitation in his voice. The good doctor was lying. He didn't think so at all, but was trying to provide her with false hope. She couldn't decide if she appreciated it or not.

Hours passed in silence. She ordered room service and ate by herself. In the room's lovely bathroom she took a long, luxurious bubble bath. Afterwards she threw a night gown over her body. Down next to him in bed she laid. She leaned over the edge of the bed to get her laptop. Maybe before bed she could relax even more by answering a few emails. She fetched it up into her lap, noticing out of the corner of her eye for the first time that Booth was watching her. "I thought you were sleeping." She said apologetically.

"I'm sorry." He whispered back.

"You shouldn't be sorry for sleeping."

"No, I'm sorry for all of this."

Her fingers paused opening the screen from the base. She allowed herself to completely look at him. "Booth, you have nothing to be sorry about."

"Bones, you shouldn't have to deal with all this. With me."

"I'm here because I want to be, Booth. You know that." She tried to smile at him. "We'll find out what's wrong with you. And we'll figure out a way to help you."

"What if we can't?"

"We will."

"Yeah but, what if we can't?"

She wiggled her body down in bed so that their heads were at the same level. "We _will_, Booth. Whatever it is… we'll handle it."

He kissed her deeply. She kissed back, savoring it and pulling his body closer to hers. She'd missed this, missed him, so much. He tangled a hand in her hair, seeming to feel the same way. Before they both knew it they were at one another like sex starved teenagers. "Booth," Brennan suddenly stopped them. "You can't."

"I can," he shot back, kissing her neck. "I need to."

It didn't take much convincing. Despite how feeble he'd seemed earlier in the day he was strong there in that moment. Soon enough they fell asleep happily in each other's arms. "I love you," he murmured into her ear before drifting off.

Her heart soared. In the morning when she woke he was already up and out of bed. She found him in front of the television trying to choke down some scrambled eggs. He smiled sheepishly at her. "I thought I should eat before the appointment. I got you oatmeal." He nodded to a tray covered by a silver dome sitting on their counter.

She thanked him, then did her best to eat as well. The food tasted like lead in her mouth. She knew it was supposed to be good, could feel it was good, but her taste buds wouldn't cooperate. Nervous butterflies flitted around her stomach. It came as a shock. What was there to be bothered about? _Something could be seriously wrong with him. _He took another bite of eggs as she watched. _What will I do if there is?_

Back to her oatmeal she turned her focus. When she was done she looked to him again. The plate had been abandoned, nearly cleaned. Booth was staring straight ahead at the wall. His eyes narrowed. His mouth twitched. Brennan frowned. "Booth?"

He didn't snap out of it. Brennan set her oatmeal cup down. She went to him, bending down in front of him. "Booth." She touched his face. Nothing. She tried kissing him. He jumped and pulled back like he'd been stung. But he still didn't come out of his stupor.

"Come on, Booth." She pleaded.

After a few more minutes he blinked back into the present. He saw the expression on Brennan's face and shook his head slightly. "What?"

He was getting increasingly worse. Now he didn't seem to be aware when he was losing track of time. "Nothing. Lets get ready for your appointment."

He showered while she dressed. Then he himself dressed as well in a loose fitting shirt and jogging pants. Brennan called for a cab. It picked them up just outside the hotel. During their ride through the city Booth peered out the window, taking in the bright flashing neon signs as well as the other sights. Separately they both recalled memories of Las Vegas. Booth's gambling addiction had begun in one of the very casinos he was staring into. Brennan had worked a case with him at the beginning of their partnership. It marveled her how different things had once been.

The car came to a stop outside a monochrome office building. Compared to the rest of the city there was absolutely nothing spectacular about it. Booth tried not to take it as an omen. He slid out from the back seat while Brennan paid the driver. Together they then entered the building. The brick floor made their footsteps sound deeper than they really were. Across the floor was a door with two doctors' names written in fancy gold lettering. Inside was another unimpressive room, save for the aquamarine paint on the walls. Brennan checked them in with the receptionist sitting behind a glass window. Then they sat down to wait.

It wasn't long until they were called into a room. They were led into a regular business office and told to sit. "The doctor will be with you shortly." The nurse promised them.

"What do you think?" Brennan asked.

Booth shrugged, either truly not thinking anything or reserving judgment. Just a few minutes passed before the door opened again. A tall woman with long, shapely legs and an amazing mane of red hair stepped into the room. Booth balked immediately. He tried not to make it obvious. But already he was beginning to panic.

"Where's Dr. Kaplan?" Brennan looked past her.

"I'm Dr. Kaplan." She shut the door behind her. Gracefully she sat down in a chair across from them. Only a desk separated the group.

"No. You're not."

"Pardon me?"

"Dr. Kaplan is a man."

The woman laughed. "That's my husband. I've been taking over some of his cases since he's been so busy."

"Don't you think you should tell new patients that?" Booth choked out.

"I'm sorry."

Brennan wasn't interested in apologies. "Are you a specialist in neuroscience as well?"

Dr. Kaplan went on to list her various degrees and accommodations. It was enough for Brennan to be impressed. She looked to Booth. "What do you think?" She said quietly, knowing full well he was uncomfortable.

_We came all this way. It'd be a wasted trip. _He sized up Dr. Kaplan. _No one else has been able to help me. What if she can? What if she can make this pain go away? Can I get over how she looks? _He owed it to himself, and to Brennan, to try. "Okay." He agreed.

"Excellent. Lets start off then with this. Tell me where it hurts." She told Booth.

Brennan was appalled at the silly simplistic question, but became more upset when Booth pointed to multiple places on his head. Just how much pain was he in throughout his day?

"And when did this start?"

"I don't… I don't remember." He admitted in a shaky voice.

"You've lost track of time?" Dr. Kaplan leaned forward. "How long has it been since you came back from your abduction?"

"I don't know."

Brennan looked at him in astonishment. "Eight months, Booth."

Dr. Kaplan spent a good time questioning Booth of facts that should have been easy for him. Should have, but weren't. He'd lost his ability to tell time. There were other things he'd forgotten, as well. Things he'd known just last week. Simple things. Brennan was becoming more and more fearful. It was stress, she rationed. Stress was making him lose his memory. It happened to everyone.

"Okay, this is what I want to do. I know you've had MRIs, but I would like to do another one. There's an area I'd like to focus on. Are you all right with that?"

He nodded a bit.

"All right, then. Lets get started."

In another room Booth changed into a hospital gown. He was taken into a cool room where he laid down in the middle of a ramp leading up to a circular machine. Since he'd done this so many times he was practically a pro. He listened patiently as a technician explained the many things to expect. Before sending him into the machine she attached a watch to his wrist. This was new. "What's that?" Booth asked her.

"It's new technology. Since you've had problems in the past with anxiety this will just monitor your stats."

Booth was contented. He shut his eyes as the ramp moved him up into the machine. Not before long a repeated pounding sound that resembled a jack hammer went off all around him. He tried to relax his entire body. There was nothing to be afraid of.

"That's what you think."

His eyes jerked open as he felt a weight press down on him. There was Amanda, her body laying on top of his. She looked straight down into his eyes with a seductive smile. "There's _always_ something to be afraid of."

He gasped. "No, I-"

She cut him off with a thrust of her hips. He winced like he'd been wounded. Suddenly he was having a hard time catching his breath. Panic lit his insides on fire. Every single fiber in his body felt on attention.

Meanwhile, Brennan and Dr. Kaplan were safe in another room behind a glass window watching computer monitors as the test was conducted. They'd said little to one another. Brennan watched her now critically with crossed arms. "What will this do?"

"I'd like to rule out all possibilities."

"But you think you're onto something. You think he has a brain tumor." She accused.

"I can't ignore the symptoms, Dr. Brennan. No more than I'm sure you can. But I want a clearer picture from my own point of view before deciding anything. His tests showed up nothing. If something is there then I am going to find it."

Brennan admired her determination. She was about to say so when the computer speakers let out a shrill beep. The tech clicked the mouse. "His pulse is climbing." She leaned over and spoke into a microphone. "Mr. Booth? Are you all right?"

Booth was far from all right. Amanda was still teasing him, promising him he was going to die while continuing moving her hips against his. "There's nothing you can do," she promised, pulling on his hair. "Those women can't help you. You're mine all mine." She slid a hand down into his hospital gown and over his frantically beating heart.

"No, I'm not." He panted.

"Don't you see? You're dying right now. Look up."

He did. The top of the machine had disappeared. Dirt was being thrown down on top of them. Small pebbles bounced into his mouth and nose. A brown clump blinded his vision. He tried to twist away, only to have her hold him down. "No!" He could taste the dirt in his mouth. Smell it on his skin. Out of no where thick mud dropped down on top of him.

"You're being buried alive," Amanda hissed into his ear.

The mud smothered him. He couldn't breathe.

"Sir?" The tech tried again from the office. Brennan pushed her away, taking over. "Booth?" When he still said nothing, she ordered for the test to stop. "Just shut it down!"

Before it was even safe she was running out to the machine. The ramp was spitting Booth back out bit by bit. Brennan was at his side the minute he emerged. Which was why she knew before anyone else that he wasn't breathing. "He needs help!" She called out before starting CPR on him. The entire time she worked she wondered what had happened to him. His skin was covered with sweat, and clammy. She had some difficultly bringing him back. But at long last he coughed, his body half rising off the table. She took him into her arms and held him. "It's all right. You're all right."

_No, I'm not. _He thought to himself. _She's killing me. I'm dying, Bones._


	39. Separating Worlds Apart

Dr. Kaplan had wanted to rush Booth straight to the hospital. Brennan had other plans. "He'll be fine as long as he's with me." And that was that. Dr. Kaplan managed to convince them to try an open MRI before they left. Without the confining machine Booth did just fine. After that she permitted them to go. Brennan didn't let Booth out of her sight. "What happened?" She demanded to know on the way back to the hotel.

Booth didn't want to admit the truth to her, that Amanda had appeared and convinced him the sky was falling while attempting to violate him. That his hallucination had damn near ended his life. She reappeared now while he was thinking about it. He let out a deep, tired sigh.

"She's waiting for an answer. What are you going to tell her?"

He remained mum.

She cackled. "I told you, you should just kill yourself. You're never going to be good enough for her."

She'd hit a sore spot. Booth squeezed his eyes closed. "Aren't you doing that for me? Just stop. I don't want to hear it." When he opened them, she was gone. He was left with Brennan's piercing gaze burning into his eyes. "Booth? Who are you talking to?"

"No one. It's nothing."

"No. Something's been upsetting you. Something happened back in the machine and then again now. Who were you talking to?" She feared his answer, having a feeling she already knew. But she needed to hear him say it out loud.

"Amanda." He finally growled.

Brennan's intensity became worrisome. She expelled a breath. "Booth-"

"It's almost all the time now, Bones." He admitted. "She's always there."

"So when you were having the MRI-"

"She showed up and convinced me I was dying." He finished her sentence for her.

_And then you did. _She waited for him to go into specifics. He didn't. Brennan sucked her bottom lip into her teeth and looked away with tears in her eyes. If Amanda was a constant fixture in the background of his life then what did that mean? What did it say about his health? Bit by bit she was losing more of her excuses to justify his behavior. But she couldn't let herself believe he was sick. Certainly not with an illness they couldn't stop or prevent. She just couldn't.

Booth immediately took notice of her reaction. His own head dropped in shame. All he was doing was hurting her. Whether he needed to be up front with her or secretive, he couldn't decide. All he knew was that he didn't want to keep putting her through this Hell his life had become.

Nothing more was said the entire ride.

Back at the hotel Booth again disappeared into the bedroom to lay down. Unlike before he shut the door behind him this time. Brennan stood just outside feeling overwhelmed with heart crushing emotion. It was hard for her to deal with emotions to begin with, but near drowning in an ocean of them was scary. She retreated back into the living room area and sat down on the couch. For a good while she sat and tried to push all the negativity and disheartening thoughts from her mind. Anytime she could at last find peace however, they returned like a stubborn weed. For only so long did she let it go on before she knew she needed to talk to someone; someone outside of Booth. Angela was her first call. "He's seeing her all the time," she said by way of greeting.

"Hello to you, too, sweetie. Who's seeing whom? Booth?"

"Booth hallucinates Amanda all the time. We went to see this new doctor today, and-"

"I know," Angela interrupted her in a sheepish voice. "He told me before you two left."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because..."

"I need to know these things!" Her voice turned into someone else's as she strained to speak under sudden intense pressure in her throat. "I just don't know, Angela. I don't know what to do anymore." She went on to relay Booth's near death experience.

"Did Dr. Kaplan have any ideas?"

"She seems-"

"She?" There was a surprised edge in Angela's voice.

"Yes." Brennan explained the story. "I'm more impressed with her than I have been the others." A tear fell from her eyes. "I feel like I'm losing him all over again. There's nothing I can do to help him."

"You're doing the best thing you can, sweetie, in trusting his care to someone else."

Brennan wiped her cheeks. She shook her head. "It just doesn't feel like enough."

"I know. But right now, it is."

Booth meanwhile laid awake in bed staring at the ceiling. He'd been so tired, and now for some unexplainable reason he was wide awake. His mind kept replaying the scene of Brennan's heart break back in the cab. He seemed to be fixated upon it. It was tearing him apart the way his illness was hurting her. If only there was something he could do to keep her from his problems. _I could send her back to D.C. _No, he knew that was a worthless idea. She'd never go without him. _I could go back to D.C. I could just disappear all together. _He hated himself the minute he thought it. If he were to run away from her it would assuredly kill whatever strong part of her that was still hanging on. He couldn't do that to her again. He'd inflicted enough pain on her to last a life time.

_The only way you'll stop hurting her is to kill yourself. Get it through your thick skull. _Amanda wasn't even around and her voice was still in his head. Disgustedly he rolled onto his side to try and get more comfortable. The pressure had no more been applied before he was maneuvering again back onto his back to try and relieve the hot flash of pain he experienced running through the bicep in his arm. Bright colors swam behind his eyes which were rapidly tearing up. Evenly he breathed the sensation in and out of his body. Minutes passed by before he felt anything resembling normal once again. He sat himself up and turned on a lamp next to his side of the bed. He gingerly lifted away the sleeve of his shirt to examine his arm. A hard, nasty lump the size of a nickel was throbbing in time to the beating of his heart. To test it he pressed the tip of his index finger against the heart of it. He'd hardly touched it before he was grabbing onto his bed sheet and forming a fist from the pain. "Shit." He breathed out loud. This wasn't good.

* * *

In the morning Booth was purposefully up before Brennan after a restless night of sleep. He just wasn't able to relax. Having Brennan sleeping beside him just made him more conscious of the situation in his arm muscle. He didn't intend on drawing any attention to it while he was around her. That also meant he didn't dare move while next to her for fear of accidentally bumping his arm.

He skipped the shower, dressing and jotting a note for her before leaving the apartment. Fifteen minutes later he was seated in a cab on his way back to Dr. Kaplan's office. Every mile that passed increased his nervousness. Since he'd been up all night he'd been thinking. In his heart he had a good idea of what was wrong with him, and of the fight he was due to be up against. And he'd decided he would be going through it alone. Somehow he was going to convince Brennan to go back home. Once he was fit to, he would follow. Then again there was always that evil 'if' that lurked around the corner. 'If' he got better…

The cab pulled up in front of the building. Booth handed money to the driver while getting out. He walked inside. The office was just beginning to come to life. Though the door was already unlocked the overhead lights were just turning on. A receptionist raised an eyebrow at him as he hurried up to the window. "Is Dr. Kaplan in yet?"

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No. I just need to talk to her for a minute."

"All I can do is take a message for her to call you."

Booth slumped in frustration. If he left a message then he ran the risk of being around Brennan when Dr. Kaplan called. Besides, he wanted to see the doctor in addition to talking to her. "Please," he begged. "All I need is five minutes."

"Sir-"

"Mr. Booth?" Dr. Kaplan stepped into the reception area from behind a closed door.

His eyes lit up. "Can I talk to you for just a few minutes?"

"I told him you weren't available." The receptionist said with a snotty attitude.

"It's all right. Let him in." The doctor agreed.

Dr. Kaplan took Booth into her office. She'd just shut the door when he tugged his coat off and yanked up his sleeve, wincing from the brief pain associated with the action. "Can you just take a look at this?"

Dr. Kaplan looked puzzled. "Mr. Booth, I don't have any expertise with-"

"Please."

"I can refer you out to another doctor." She bent over her desk to write down a name. Before doing so she paused. Seeing the desperation in his eyes she added, "but you're pretty sick of doctors, huh?"

"I don't want you to diagnose it. Just… I think it might be related to what I got going on in here." He tapped his temple.

Most doctors would have argued how unlikely the two events were to be related. But not Dr. Kaplan. Wordlessly she stepped into place besides him. He struggled to keep himself from shying away as her fingers probed the area surrounding the lump. She didn't stop until she bumped the lump itself and heard his hiss of pain. "Sorry," she said with sympathy. She released his arm.

"It's a tumor, right?" He fixed his sleeve and put his coat back on over his shoulders.

"I can't say without further testing."

"But you think so," he predicted. "It's the same as my head problem, isn't it? I got a brain tumor."

"Your results aren't all back yet-"

"Doc, c'mon. I know you have an idea, or else you wouldn't have done so specific tests."

Dr. Kaplan sighed. "I think you may have several masses on your brain, to be exact," she said in a voice no louder than a whisper. "But you have to remember I'm not one hundred percent sure on anything and I refuse to make a diagnosis until the results return."

"Several?" Booth repeated, feeling dizzy at the thought. Behind Dr. Kaplan Amanda sat on her desk, kicking her feet and looking pleased with herself.

"I don't know for sure." She emphasized. "Look, Mr. Booth-"

"Please drop the mister."

"Booth, I will refer you to one of my friends who deals more with that type of injury you have on your arm." She walked out around Amanda and knelt down over her desk. Onto a prescription pad she wrote a name and phone number. Then she handed it to Booth. He took it, his eyes not leaving Amanda as he shoved the note into his pocket. "Hey Doc, one last thing. From now on anything involving my problems or treatment or whatever, only call me. Leave Bones out of it."

"Okay." Dr. Kaplan said in a way that made Booth feel as though he needed to elaborate more. "I just don't want her involved."

"I just thought you two were-"

"We are."

Dr. Kaplan sat herself down behind her desk. "I understand, but I think she's an excellent support for you that you'll likely need."

Booth agreed. "She has been. That's why I don't want to do this to her anymore. I'm trying to protect her."

"By not allowing her to know the truth?"

"I know it sounds bad. But it's what I got to do right now. It's what I can do for her."

Dr. Kaplan clearly didn't agree. But she had to abide by patient confidentiality, and so she nodded.

Booth left her office and waited outside for another cab to pick him up. He called and arranged for an appointment with the other doctor, a Dr. Kibbel. Then he put his head in his hands as a fierce pain ricocheted through his skull. Despite what it seemed the hardest part was yet to come. Now he had to try and convince Brennan to go back to D.C.


	40. Leaving Las Vegas

Booth went straight from Dr. Kaplan to Dr. Kibbel. His office was able to make him an emergency appointment. He wasn't sure his condition garnered such an urgent opening, but he took it none the less. In the cab on the way over he had a difficult time keeping his eyes open. Constantly hiding how much pain he was truly in from both strangers and Brennan was draining him daily. Now that he was having a difficult time sleeping it was only worsening his symptoms. He closed his eyes and leaned his temple on the window glass. The coolness soothed away some of the pain and stress. He only opened his eyes again after the cab came to a stop.

Dr. Kibbel's office was even less impressive than Dr. Kaplan's. Although Booth hardly took notice as he checked in at the front desk. He collapsed down into a chair and leaned his head back. His arm protested a little from the movement. Sleep must have at last found him, because the next thing he knew a nurse was tapping his leg and beckoning him to follow her. Wearily he lifted himself from the chair up onto his feet. Behind her he shuffled.

She led him into a room and did a basic check up. Her light touches were still unpleasant; still caused a tremor of apprehension within him. Unsurprisingly his blood pressure was high. Everything else was normal, in which he felt some relief. Maybe his head and arm were falling apart but the rest of him was hanging in. The nurse left promising the doctor would be in soon.

Time passed by. Booth's cell phone rang while he waited. He took it out from his pocket and checked it. Brennan was calling, no doubt wondering where he was or what was taking so long. Regretfully he chose to ignore her call. Before he talked to her he needed to decide on a story to tell her. He'd already planned to lie to her. It was the only way he'd be able to get her to leave him and go home. But even with the perfect story he knew she wouldn't be willing to just, in her eyes, abandon him. It was going to require some major conning.

At last Dr. Kibbel arrived. He was a little old man, with glasses the size of Coke bottles. Booth wasn't sure what to think as he wordlessly looked over what the nurse had written down in a chart. He then narrowed his eyes at Booth. "So lets see it."

Again Booth stripped off his jacket. The doctor motioned him to continue, to lose his shirt. Booth near moaned in pain as he removed the fabric. Dr. Kibbel swooped in. He measured, pressed, poked, and massaged. Booth was ready to faint by the time he finished up. Dr. Kibbel then sat down on a stool and faced Booth. He didn't say a single word.

"Well?" Booth asked, losing his patience.

"I'd like to remove it."

"The lump, or my arm?" He joked sarcastically.

The doctor didn't understand his humor. "The lump, of course. I can't tell you without a biopsy whether its cancerous or not. But judging by the other issues you have going on-"

"You think it is."

"I do." The gruffness in Dr. Kibbel's voice eased. "You want the truth. I think you're very sick. Much sicker than you're letting on."

Booth looked away.

"I just don't understand why. There must be a girl involved somewhere in this mess."

Booth's gaze snapped back to him in a hardened glare.

"Bullseye." Dr. Kibbel chuckled. "Stop by the front desk on your way out. They can collaborate with the hospital and set up a date and time for your surgery."

Booth's heart pounded as he asked, "what happens if I chose not to do anything?"

"Then you'd be giving yourself a death sentence."

_What if I think I already have one? _Booth didn't speak the thought on his mind. He mumbled a thank you. Then he did as told by stopping by the front desk before he left. The surgery was arranged to take place in a week. A whole week for Booth to pressure Brennan into leaving.

She was waiting by the hotel room's door when he walked inside. Her arms were folded. An angry scowl marred her face. "Where were you? What happened? Why didn't you answer your cell?"

"I went to see Dr. Kaplan." He blurted without thinking.

Both Brennan's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Did she get your results back?"

He decided to twist the story to his advantage. "Yeah. She didn't find anything."

Brennan exhaled. Her shoulders slumped.

"She thinks its psychological. She's got the name of some doctor she wants me to see. She thinks he can help." So there was some nugget of truth in his lie.

"If it's a psychological problem then you should see Gordon Gordon again."

That was a curve he wasn't expecting. "She thinks I should stay here in Vegas and give this guy a shot." He closed the door behind him. It was time to drop the bomb. "I'm gonna stay but… I think you should go home."

She looked like she'd electrocuted herself. "What?"

He nodded firmly. "Look, Bones, there's nothing left to do here. Go home, and after a few weeks I'll follow."

"No."

He took his hands into hers and kissed her. "I'll be okay."

She disagreed, and made it apparent. "If she's recommending intense therapy, after all you've been through you may become dangerous to yourself again. I need to be here with you."

"No. I'll be all right."

"What if you become suicidal? Its still too fresh-"

He quieted her with another kiss. "Bones, I promise. I'll stay safe."

She still wasn't swayed. "You're in pain. Unexplained physical pain." She reminded him. "Therapy won't help that. You can't be alone."

"I promise." He repeated. "Dr. Kaplan thinks the pain will clear up as soon as I start feeling better, you know, emotionally. I can call you if I need you. I know you're itching to get back to work. You should just go."

She literally backed a step away. He'd hit the nail on the head and knew it. "I did receive a call about a dig in the mountains in North Carolina." She said in a slow, light, and almost nervous voice.

"So go. By the time you finish I'll be ready to come back home." _Lies. All lies._

Brennan didn't like it in the least bit. But he was convincing. "I don't… I…"

For a third time he kissed her, this time letting his lips linger on hers. She moved her body back close to his. His pulse was racing so fast he was surprised she didn't feel it. _At least I got to have this before it's all over. _

"I'll go," she agreed in a reluctant whisper against his lips. "But only for a few weeks."

"We'll meet back at home." Three weeks. Would that be enough time to tie up his loose ends there in Vegas? How long would it take him to recover from the surgery? Like it or not it had to be enough. Even if he hadn't fully bounced back he'd have to go home. Somehow he was going to have to find a way. He'd survived the worst year of his life. By now he could handle the worst, whatever life threw his way. "And I'll call you every day."

Brennan was temporarily fulfilled. This time she was the one who embraced him. Since he hadn't started the kiss and wasn't in control he froze for the briefest of moments. He realized then the damage would never really be completely undone. What Amanda had done had left a permanent scar, albeit it was one that was healing over time. Emotionally he was stronger than he'd ever been since returning home. It was strength he was no doubt going to need.

He now just needed to figure out what she'd done to him physically.

* * *

The next twenty four hours flew by. It seemed like mere seconds had passed before Booth was saying goodbye to Brennan at the airport. He hugged her close, almost wishing he hadn't been so insistent upon chasing her away. _You still have a chance to make her stay. _But in his heart he couldn't put his selfishness ahead of what he thought was the best for her. _She needs to go. She shouldn't have to hurt anymore because of me. _Her flight number was paged throughout the airport as he told her again softly in her ear how much he loved her.

Brennan put her hands on his arms. Her one hand landed right over the sore lump. Sharply he inhaled. She immediately pulled back. "Booth?"

He forced a smile. "You're going to miss your flight, Bones."

She had a feeling she should have tried to get him to explain himself. But instead she trusted him. They had a final kiss goodbye. She then picked up her luggage and disappeared down the hall to her flight.

Once she was gone Booth gasped at the pain still throbbing in his arm. _Three weeks. The countdown begins._


	41. Secrets Uncovered

_Booth awoke laying on his back in complete darkness. He didn't know where he was. He had no idea what time it was, or what day. His arms were restrained above his head. His feet were stretched straight out and bound in front of him. With every strained breath he could feel his skin sinking into the space in between his ribs. His captor hadn't given him any food since he'd been abducted. Occasionally she hooked an IV into his veins to deliver fluids, or at least some sort of chemical. He was sure that was the only reason he was still alive._

"_So you're awake."_

_Internally he jumped at the sudden noise. On the outside he was paralyzed. The few things he could see floated around the room. He came to realize she'd given him something. Something that'd rendered him impossible to move. Or fight back._

_She laughed, somehow seemingly able to read his thoughts. "Now you're getting it. Don't even try to fight." She grabbed onto his neck. Her fingernails scratched at his cheek. "Won't do you any good." Her finger released him only to leave a scratch on his face._

"_You're killing me," he predicted in a breathless voice._

"_Not yet. But soon." _

_He could sense her moving above him. He could hear the soft pinging of some sort of glass vital being maneuvered. "Even if you survive, you won't," she added cryptically as she plugged an IV into his arm. Liquid flowed freely into his body. Booth shut his eyes. He expected to hear the sound of his heart stopping at any moment. Instead he could only feel fear as the piercing sound of a drill reverberated in the dark. She yanked on his pants and climbed up onto his hips._

"_This won't hurt at all," she laughed in his ear, pressing the buzzing instrument into the side of his neck._

Booth woke with a panicked cry. His body trembled, shaking the entire mattress. His fists were clenched, one ripping into his pillow while the other bunched his blanket into a ball. He sat up while trying to catch his breath. His hurting mind felt light headed. Either he was readying to pass out, or hyper ventilate. Which one, he couldn't tell. Next to him he switched on a lamp, as if to prove to himself his dream was just that - a dream. Amanda wasn't there in the room with him.

His breaths came faster and faster until he fell back onto his pillow. He stared up at the ceiling. His vision faded in and out before settling itself in a blurry state. He squinted before shutting them entirely against a new wave of head pain. Minutes passed before his breathing righted itself. By then he felt too weak to even turn the bedside light back off. Completely still, he laid. In just a few hours he was to report to the hospital for surgery.

It'd been an entire week since Brennan had left. They'd spoken on the phone for hours at a time nearly every day. But it still didn't make up for how bad he missed her. More than once he'd wondered at his own intelligence for sending her away. He'd respond to that thought by chiding himself for being weak and selfish. Any time he talked to Brennan she sounded like she was enjoying herself, though she carried a tone in her voice that said she was missing him. It was a break she'd needed, he'd determined. Meanwhile he himself was not faring quite as well.

Since she'd left he'd had two seizures. The pain he was in intensified with every passing day. New symptoms had begun to arise as well. At times he'd suddenly feel his breath get stolen away with no rhyme or reason. The symptom was even worse when he was startled into it. Then there was his vision. His near perfect eye sight was diminishing. There were some times in which it was worse than others. But even at its best he was having a difficult time with his sight.

He finally knew why. Dr. Kaplan's results had come back positive with her suspicions. Booth did indeed have multiple brain tumors. They were pressing down on different areas of his brain, inflicting his pain and bodily reactions. Why they hadn't shown up on other tests, no one seemed to know. Dr. Kaplan had offered an explanation when she'd delivered Booth the results, but he'd been in too much shock to really be able to hear what she was saying.

He found enough strength to climb up out of bed and wobble his way out of the room. His dream, or memory, came back to him in startling detail. Amanda. Had she somehow caused this? She'd injected him with something. Could it have been cancer cells? Was that even possible?

For now the plan was to go ahead and remove the tumor in his arm. It was unsaid but everyone already figured it to be cancerous. From there once he'd recovered he'd begin radiation treatment to try and shrink the lesions in his brain. Booth was trying to remain strong, but he felt hopeless. He hadn't told anyone yet of his condition. He'd stall off trying to tell Parker and Rebecca for as long as possible. But it wouldn't be nearly as hard telling them as it was going to be telling Brennan. The thought of it made him sick to his stomach.

And yet he longed to talk to her. In the living room area he sat himself down on the couch. Though he located his cell phone it took a good five minutes of him trying to see the buttons before being able to figure out how to call her. Patiently he waited while the phone rang. He knew the group she was with were in the mountains and had set up tents outdoors. It was all the more evident when she answered tiredly. In the background crickets chirped.

"Hey. You sleeping?"

"Booth, it's five in the morning. Yes, I'm sleeping," she shot back testily.

"Sorry. I just wanted to hear your voice." He winced, hearing himself slur once again.

Brennan paused. "What's wrong?" She sounded instantly alert.

"Nothing. I'll let you go back to sleep. I love you." He hung up before she could press any more into his behavior.

Brennan sat up in her sleeping bag. She stared critically at her phone, at the screen which kept blinking "call ended" in bold letters. Something wasn't right. Booth wasn't right. A nagging feeling in her heart told her he was in trouble. Nothing about his phone call had been comforting. Had he been drunk, that being the cause for his slurred speech? Perhaps his therapy had driven him to the point of considering suicide once again? Had he been calling to say goodbye? She gasped out loud.

Being on the dig had given her a good distraction from the real world. It'd been refreshing. But now she needed to take that rejuvenation and return back to that real world Booth had insisted she turn away from. In the morning she'd approach the leader of the dig and inform him of her plans.

She was going back to Las Vegas.

* * *

It was early afternoon before her plane touched down. She spent the next hour getting a cab and struggling to remember how to get to the hotel she and Booth had been staying in. She sent numerous unanswered calls to his cell phone. With each one she left a voice mail, her voice getting uncharacteristically frantic with each one. Where was he? Why wasn't he answering? Just how much trouble was he in?

Once the cab pulled up out front of the hotel's entrance Brennan ran in through the front doors. She explained the situation to the two women manning the front desk, leaving out her concern over Booth's life. Since it was the same two who had seen her before, they'd been all too happy to hand over an extra door key for her. Brennan barely murmured a thank you before she was jogging to the elevator. She waited no more than a few seconds before she decided the stairs would be a quicker route. Her steps echoed off the empty brick walls as she took the stairs at a record speed. The door collided with the wall from the extreme effort she used to fling it open when she reached her floor. Doors flew by her eyes until she found the one she recognized. Her fist pounded at the wood while she slid the card she had been given into the metal boxed key lock. "Booth!" She hollered. The light on top of the box blinked the green admittance. She shoved the door open.

She was disheartened to find the room empty. All Booth's things were there; his clothes and other personal items. But he was no where to be found. In passing by the stand next to his bed she noticed more than five amber colored prescription bottles. The sight of them stopped her in her steps. She doubled back and picked up each bottle, studying them one by one. Each medicine was of a different variety. Pain killers. Antibiotics. Despite the seriousness of the other medicines it was the last bottle she checked that scared her the most. Ambien. Ambien was a sedative.

Brennan inhaled a deep, steadying breath. Someone named Dr. Kibbel had prescribed the medication. A doctor. Perhaps his therapist? There was no reason to be concerned, right? Then again, after all the doctors they'd seen she didn't quite trust anyone. Why had Booth needed a sleeping pill, anyway? Was it just as she had foreseen, that attempting to sort through his past trauma had wounded him deeply all over again?

She tried yet again to call his cell phone. There in the hotel room she could hear it ringing. Straight back through the living room she followed the chirpy ring tone. The sound led her straight to the kitchen area where it sat upon a counter on top of a piece of paper. Finding it opened a whole new set of questions. Why had he left his cell phone behind? The new pieces forming in the puzzle were leaving her more confused and uneasy. Maybe there was an answer in his phone. She picked it up in her hand. Her eyes happened to catch a word on the paper underneath it. **Surgery.**

She snatched the paper up. Judiciously she scanned it over. It was instructions on what to do, or not to do, before having surgery. Booth had scribbled a date and time across the top. The date of course, being that day. Importantly, that morning. On the last page she found the name of the hospital.

Dazedly she found her way to the couch and sat down. Her face paled from fright. Her last phone call with him combined into the behavior he'd demonstrated on the phone over the last week. Booth had been distant. Not in coldness. No. He was never mean. But he'd sounded as if his mind had been elsewhere. All along he'd been showing signs of something being terribly wrong. But she'd been too focused on her dig to pay attention. Pain killers could have made him spacey. But what was the reason for them? Were they for his head? What was he having surgery on?

Her worry transformed into anger. If she knew Booth like she did then he purposefully had sent her away. He _knew _something was happening to him, and he hadn't wanted her around for it. It was her rage that she seized on. She'd go down to the hospital and give him a piece of her mind!


	42. Answers And The Truth

If it wasn't for cab drivers, Brennan never would have been able to navigate the streets of Las Vegas by herself. Outside the hospital's front doors she was dropped off. She went inside to the help desk and requested information on Booth. The woman typed noisily on a keyboard. "He's just been put in room two fifty five."

Brennan paused before turning away. "Just?" She repeated in a dumb founded voice. "I know he was here for surgery. Shouldn't he have been in recovery hours ago?" According to what Booth had written down the surgery was at seven in the morning. It was nearing two o'clock.

"You'd have to speak to his doctor."

"Who is?"

"Dr. Kibbel."

The same doctor who prescribed the sedatives. Brennan stalked upstairs. She made it onto the appropriate floor. It was Dr. Kaplan she spotted first. The doctor was standing just outside a door in the middle of the hallway. Down in her hands she was looking intently at a patient chart. Was it Booth's room? His chart? Her steps grew in their urgency. "Where is he?" She near screamed at the woman. "What happened? Why are you here? Why did he need surgery?"

Dr. Kaplan was taken by surprise. "Dr. Brennan, what are you-"

"He's been lying to me! I want the truth from someone! Now!"

"Okay. I understand. Calm down." Dr. Kaplan held up her hands in mock surrender.

"What surgery was he having?" Brennan asked in a controlled, but just as fierce voice.

"I'm bound by patient confidentiality."

Tears popped into Brennan's eyes. The rage within her was draining from exasperation. She was near ready to throw herself on the woman's mercy. Only Booth could do this to her. "I need to know," she insisted in a faint voice. "I need to know what's wrong with him."

"It's up to him to tell you." Dr. Kaplan wasn't budging. "I'm sorry. Legally I just can't."

"Isn't there _something_ you can tell me?"

Dr. Kaplan straightened with a nod. "He was here having a tumor removed from his arm. Dr. Kibbel, his other doctor, wanted to biopsy it."

"He wanted to test for cancer?"

Dr. Kaplan didn't say anything else. She glanced back into the room.

Brennan was going crazy. "Did the results come back? What did they say?"

"I can't say anything more. I'm sorry."

"Can I see him, at least?"

"Yes. You can go on in." She pointed into the room Booth was in. Brennan hastily went inside. Though the room held two beds Booth was alone. He'd been put in the bed closest to the door. He was sleeping on his side, facing her. The color in his features was sheer white. A white gauze bandage tainted red in a few spots from blood edged out from underneath the sleeve on his uniform blue hospital gown. Her eyes stayed on it.

_She needed to touch him before she left. Why had she agreed to this? Leaving was much more difficult than she anticipated. She braced both his biceps in her arms. Immediately she heard him hiss. At once she let go. "Booth?"_

_He smiled at her. "You're going to miss your flight, Bones."_

That right there had been the sign she'd missed. Booth had sent her away for exactly that reason. He had known he was sick, long before any surgery could confirm it. She picked up his cold hand into her own. Booth's eyes cracked open. They were like pure glass muddled with smoke. He was there, but he wasn't at all with her. The powerful effects from the anesthesia hadn't let up just yet. She held his gaze for as long as she could before he drifted off again. She pulled up a chair next to him. She had no intentions of going anywhere. She wouldn't allow him to chase her away ever again.

* * *

Brennan sat for hours thinking while he slept on. Maybe it had only been a week they'd been separated, but Booth seemed much more feeble than he had before she'd left. Weaker than he'd been in quite some time. His spaced breaths were gentle and deep, much like a child's. For the first time in a long time he seemed to be at peace. She had no doubt this was due to the heavy sedation. For once Booth wasn't feeling any pain. She wasn't sure if she was okay with that or not.

She worried immensely over him. She worried over what his actions had really meant. Was he just being a stubborn man, determined to hunt down his answers alone? Did he no longer want her involvement in his life? Was he cutting ties? Or was he just isolating himself? It all boiled down to the same question. What did he know that she didn't? The possibilities terrified her.

When at last Booth came out of his induced coma, he was unprepared. He caught her eye and narrowed his own in confusion. Why was she there? How had she found him? His mind wasn't quite back enough just yet to fully comprehend what he was in for. He managed one word. "Bones?"

A build up of fury and trepidation had been left to simmer for hours within Brennan. Furious words burst from her mouth at a rapid fire rate. "Yes, Booth. How could you do this? How could you be so selfish? You clearly have no concern for me at all!"

"What?" His throat had been scraped. He could barely speak.

"You lied to me! There never was any therapy, was there? You sent me to North Carolina on purpose! You were irrational in your assumption-"

"I didn't want to hurt you."

Was he serious? "Booth, _this_ hurts! Sending me away… I don't think I can ever forgive you for this! I can't believe you could be so… so…" She couldn't find the right word.

Booth wasn't listening anymore anyway. His eyes had closed again. He was grimacing. As he emerged more and more from his sleep the pain came back with a vengeance. Brennan took a hold of the remote control attached to his bed and pressed a button to distribute pain medication through his IV tubing. He exhaled a weak breath in relief. The simple act brought more tears to her eyes. "You're sick, aren't you?"

She had to strain to hear him. He responded honestly. "I have three masses on my brain. And my doctors think I got more tumors in my body."

The seriousness of his words shocked her into submission. Her heart stopped beating. "Booth-"

If she wanted the truth then he'd lay it on her. He wouldn't be able to hide the truth much longer from her as it was. "My head pain is excruciating. It's hard for me to see stuff. I get these moments when I can't breathe. I have no balance. I can't walk a straight line. Sometimes I can't get up at all."

She started to cry. "Booth."

He managed to get both of his eyes open again to look at her. "I got cancer, Bones."


	43. Learning How To Smile

The next few days felt like a post apocalyptic world for the two of them. Especially Brennan, who was only surviving by clinging to the medical facts in Booth's case. She was granted access to be involved in all steps concerning his care. She buried herself in files and facts; scans and x-rays. She read all the literature about his type of cancer that she could possibly get her hands on. It all allowed her to keep a steady head on her shoulders. They'd fight this. They'd made it too far to willingly back down. She tried not to remind herself that it was easy to talk tough. She wasn't the one doing the fighting.

Booth had shut down. He became an observer to his own life, remaining silent as plans for treatment were formed around him. He'd speak when spoken to; when directed. But there was no emotion in his words. No heart. The hospital kept him admitted post surgery for a few days before releasing him. He went straight back to the hotel and went to sleep.

Brennan took an indefinite leave of absence from the Jeffersonian. Actually, if she was being honest with herself, she was taking a leave from work all together. Until Booth was in remission her concentration was solely on him. She set up doctor's appointments for him. She worked out plans of action. She even worked out a diet for him that was recommended to people fighting cancer. In short, she took over arranging his life. Someone had to be there for him, since he obviously wasn't able to help himself at the moment.

At the end of the day she laid in bed next to him. He was on his back, still sound asleep. Brennan watched his scarred bare chest rise up and down with the sound of his breathing. Tenderly she put a hand over his heart. The feel of its beat against her palm broke through the cold barrier she'd put up to keep calm. She laid her head down on his shoulder and sniffed back a few tears. She wouldn't cry. She'd be strong for him. But she couldn't deny that his illness was affecting her more deeply than she let on.

In the morning she was awake and continuing her research into his disease on the internet before he woke. More than one site she visited urged its visitors to keep their spirit strong through their difficult fight.

In thought Brennan pursed her lips. Booth's spirit was already damaged. He was hardly considered functional. She reached for her phone and dialed the person in her life who knew more about spirits than anyone else. Angela. All who worked at the Jeffersonian had been informed of Booth's condition when Brennan had contacted them about taking her leave. Brennan was glad Angela didn't dwell on the subject when she brought up her current problem to her friend. "He's depressed. I don't know how to help him through this. I can't let him suffer without at least trying to do something."

"So get his spirit back." Angela replied matter of factly. As if it were no big deal.

"But how? I'm not good with this."

"You're in Vegas, sweetie. Take him out."

"Where? He hates shows. He can't gamble, especially now. What else is there?"

"You'll think of something."

Brennan was frustrated, but still managed to thank her. Angela stopped her before she hung up. In a quiet voice she asked, "you really think Amanda did this to him?"

She wasn't sure how to respond. Was Amanda capable of such a heinous act? Were Booth's hallucinations in fact correct? "I don't know. She worked in a hospital, so I guess she could have had access to something that causes cancer."

Angela inhaled. "Just take care of him, sweetie. With you I know he can pull through."

* * *

It was his body trembling that woke Booth up from his deep sleep. He opened his eyes slowly. His skin was littered with goosebumps. His teeth chattered in protest. Why was he so cold? He snuggled deep underneath his covers. He expected to feel Brennan's warm body besides him. Disappointed he was to find himself alone. Where had Brennan gone?

"She's off trying to play hero. Trying to save your life. Seems pretty hopeless, if you ask me."

Booth rolled onto his back. He just about cried from the pain. He squinted upwards at Amanda. Everything else in his line of vision was fuzzy. Except her. She leaned over him, her hands on both sides of his shoulders. "Do you get it now? Now that the evidence is in your face? You're not going to survive this."

He didn't bother to respond. He felt numb. And the things she was saying were the same things he'd been thinking since he'd gotten the news. So he laid completely still and continued to watch her without being affected by anything.

Amanda straddled his waist just as she had while he'd been in the MRI machine. Her hands gripped the top of the headboard above him. Her face loomed closer to his. "Aren't you gonna say anything? Do anything?"

He remained blank, lack of all emotion. Amanda frowned. She slapped his cheek. "Are you quitting on me already? Killing you will be that easy, huh? You won't even put up a fight."

"_Did you really honestly think you were going to escape? I mean, really?"_

_Booth laid motionless on the floor. He could smell his own skin burning from her most recent attack. He'd been attempting to get out the basement window when she'd snuck up behind him. A taser had spit hot white sparks into his back._

_She kicked him hard in the ribs with a steel toed boot. "Aren't you going to say anything for yourself?"_

_He covered his stomach after the blow. Otherwise, he said and did nothing. He let her roll him onto his aching back. The cold concrete against his skin made him attempt to twist away. She held him down by his shoulders with her hands. "That's the fighting spirit I was looking for."_

_The fight only lasted for so long before he was just too exhausted to care. He fell back and clenched his teeth to deal with the pain. _

"_I could kill you right now," she whispered suddenly in his ear. "And I bet you wouldn't do anything about it."_

_He shut his eyes. She laughed._

"BOOTH!"

He regained consciousness to find another woman at his side. Although this one was unrecognizable. Through a thick fog covering his eyes he could barely see her. His eyes narrowed in hopes to get a better look.

"Are you all right?"

The voice sounded familiar. He tilted his head. The face belonging to the voice drew closer to him. But even up close she was a stranger.

"Booth? What's wrong?"

He tried hard to focus.

"Booth? Don't you know who I am? It's me, Bones."

Finally the face materialized into an image familiar to him. Brennan. His Bones. "Yeah." He finally found a voice to answer with. "I'm okay."

She didn't appear to be too sold on his reassurance. "If you feel up to it, I'd like to take you somewhere."

"Sure." He sat up, doing his best not to wince at the onset of pain. "Let me shower and get dressed."

Brennan backed off the bed. She walked back into the living room area to give him privacy. There she tried to keep hidden the melancholy she was feeling. Booth hadn't known who she was. The corners of his eyes were beginning to droop. This disease was taking him fast. They were in a race against the clock, and were losing. She cursed herself thinking of all the months of his life, all the time they'd wasted. Time that could have been spent treating him. Her thoughts turned dark when she recalled what Amanda had done to him. She wasn't sure she'd ever felt so much hate for someone in her life. Her only consolation was knowing that she'd died by Booth's hand.

Booth joined her some time later. He paused on his way out of the bedroom door, shooting a dirty look at the wall before announcing, "I'm ready."

Brennan had been so absorbed in her thoughts that she lost track of time. She nodded, leading him outside. He followed her like an eager puppy. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

It took twenty minutes before they could find a cab to flag down. Brennan had the address of the place she had in mind scrawled from the phone book in her hand on a piece of paper. Constantly Booth was attempting to peek over her shoulder to get a clue as to her ideas. Once she realized what he was doing she put it away in her pocket. He offered her a sheepish smile in return. She smiled back at him.

A yellow and black checkered cab at last stopped for them. Side by side the two climbed inside. Brennan recited the address, now imprinted into her memory, for the driver. Since neither of them knew the city and she didn't give the name of the venue, Booth was still in the dark. He remained mum during the drive. He looked out at the scenery as they drove past. Across the seat Brennan dared to reach for his hand. He didn't look at her when he felt her touch. But he did take her hand into his and offer a little squeeze.

In time the car pulled up in front of an ice rink. Brennan immediately looked to Booth to see his reaction. He stared up at the sign in wonder. "What do you think?" She asked him quietly. Skating and hockey had always been two of Booth's most favorite activities, she'd remembered after her phone call to Angela.

"I'd love to." There was a hesitance in his voice. "I don't know if I can."

There was only one way to find out. And she wasn't willing to give in so easily. "You have the physical capabilities. You're not an invalid, Booth." Before he could respond she paid the driver and stepped out of the cab. Reluctantly Booth did the same.

Since it was a weekday and most children and adults were at school and work, the rink was near deserted. Booth slipped away while Brennan checked in at the service counter. He walked through the rink until he was face to face with the glass looking in at the ice. His own reflection mirrored back at him. Intently he studied himself. He could see now why Brennan seemed so worried about him. Besides slightly downturned eyes, his face was withdrawn. Tired, dark circles bagged underneath his eyes. In short, he just appeared to be completely worn out, which was accurate in how he felt.

_If you think you're tired now, just wait. This is just the beginning, baby._

"Booth?"

He hadn't realized he'd shut his eyes till he opened them once again. Brennan was standing next to him with skates. Her posture was pensive. "Lets go."

Both of them found a bench to sit on. They laced up their skates. Booth once again took Brennan's hand. He led her inside onto the ice. She no more took a step before she fell into him. He was quick to hold onto her to prevent her from falling. "Easy there, Bones."

"I'm all right. I can do this. I have the ability."

"Are you trying to convince yourself?" He chuckled.

She sourly glared back at him. He smiled, keeping a hold of her hand while moving forward. His pace was kept slow to be sure she could keep up. She struggled along feeling frustrated. She hated that Booth was being held up because of her. This was supposed to be a treat for him. "Go ahead," she told him. Coming to a stop, she held onto the small ledge bordering the windows around the rink.

"Huh?" He was disconcerted.

"Go skate a few laps."

"What about you?"

"I'll be right here." She didn't want to admit to him she already needed a break. "Go on," she encouraged again.

Booth seemed unsure, but finally went. She thought perhaps he'd be uncertain about skating alone, considering the condition he was in. But it took no more than a few glides before he was propelling himself forward. Brennan admired him. The delicate man he had become off the ice was gone. The skill and grace he'd always had over the ice showed in his fluid motions. Multiple laps he skated around the professional hockey sized rink. Brennan worried about the repercussions of his actions. But every time he passed her she saw the seriousness in his features. Booth needed this, she realized. Whatever he had been feeling mentally was eradicating from his mind and heart. He was bettering himself for it.

When he finally skated back to her he radiantly glowed. From ear to ear he was grinning. His forehead was covered in sweat. There was a spark back in his eyes. Brennan felt her own heart lift. "You looked very solid."

He seemed to raise a few inches in pride. "Thanks, Bones."

"I think-" She didn't get to finish her sentence. Her gloved hand slipped off of the ledge. Losing balance, her body tipped forward straight into his. Had Booth been prepared he would have been able to catch her. But since he wasn't he also fell when she crashed into his chest. He landed on his back with her falling down on top of him. Instantly her hands shot out onto the ice to try and lift herself back up. Had she hurt him? "Booth-"

It was he who interrupted her this time. He cupped her cheek with his hand, then pulled her back down to him. His lips longingly caressed hers. Though she was taken by surprise, it was a pleasant one. Her hands skidded yet again on the smooth icy surface. She didn't attempt to right herself this time. She kept her body pressed up against his, enjoying their cold embrace.

This may have been one of the best ideas she'd ever had.


	44. Bad News

Radiation therapy began a few days later. Three days a week the pair traveled to the hospital so Booth could be put in a machine and have a laser aimed at different spots on his head. Before hand the oncologist had ordered small dots to be tattooed underneath both his skin and scalp to mark where the tumors were. Booth had allowed whomever to do whatever needed to be done. But Brennan knew him well enough to know he hated every minute of it.

The therapy was difficult for him to tolerate. Though it was fairly simple and painless, it carried emotional effects no one had counted on. From the very beginning he suffered a panic attack every time he was placed into the machine. Amanda, of course, was there for every minute of it. No matter what Booth did he just couldn't shake her, or convince himself to ignore her. She always waited just below the surface for him, taking pleasure in making his worst moments intolerable. Begrudgingly, Brennan finally allowed for him to be sedated for the procedures. Booth was still uncomfortable. But the drugs kept him in a calmer state just long enough for therapy to be completed. Brennan kept an eye on him from there on out at the hotel. On top of everything else the last thing they needed was for his addiction to resurface.

At first, Booth handled the situation quite well. He seemed more hopeful than he had been. Even despite the horrible emotional toll it took on him. "This isn't as bad as I thought it would be," he told her one night over dinner.

"Really?" It seemed incredulous for her to believe since he had to have powerful medications just to be able to stay still for his treatment.

"Yeah. I mean, I can put up with this for a while." Dr. Kibbel had thought just a few months of treatment would be enough for him.

She'd smiled, pleased.

But his optimism soon fizzled out as other side effects began to emerge. Booth slept nearly all the time. He'd get home from one treatment and sleep until it was time for his next one the following day. Weight was melting off of him - he just felt too exhausted to eat. The worst, however, for Brennan was when he stopped socializing. Stopped talking, except for a few words here and there. She knew what trouble that could mean. Bit by bit he began turning into a zombie.

More problems began one evening a week or so later. Booth had come home from treatment and gone straight again to bed. Brennan had lingered around the rest of the evening by herself. Sometime around ten she finally settled down herself. Besides him she crawled into bed with her computer. While he slept on she typed away.

His only warning was a strangled cry before he jerked awake from a nightmare. Across the bed his entire body shifted. He sat up, gasping so hard his chest heaved.

Brennan frowned. "Booth, it's okay. You're safe."

He nodded at her with dull eyes. The rough breathing didn't stop. For several minutes it continued. Then, suddenly as if someone waved a magic wand, his breaths began to ease. In fact, he'd gone to the opposite end of the spectrum. He couldn't breathe _at all. _His face was turning red. His movements were jerky as he struggled to pull in a breath.

"Booth?" She questioned.

He coughed out a breath.

"Booth? Come on." She rubbed her hand across his chest. "Breathe."

But he just couldn't. Seeing his eyes close was the straw that sent her running to call for paramedics. She then dropped back down besides him. He'd slipped down off his pillows onto the mattress. Trembling fingers she kept pressed against his neck to monitor over his heart. It's frantic beats were weakening. Soon they too, were just about stopped. Panic made her world appear fuzzy. Should she do CPR? Would it be of any help? Brennan had no idea what to do.

Luckily, paramedics did. They arrived at the scene and were able to revive him, though not without some difficulty. Brennan rode along on the trip to take him to the hospital. Once there she was condemned to remain in the waiting room as usual. She collapsed down into a chair. The wait gave her time to evaluate everything that had happened. Whatever had struck him had come seemingly out of no where. Only once before had he suffered an instance of not being able to breathe. What had caused it now? Had his dream triggered something in his unconscious mind? Had fear taken a part of him?

Ultimately it was Dr. Kaplan who arrived to beckon for her some hours later. Brennan unfolded her body from her chair and approached her. "How is he? What happened?"

"He's all right. He's in a room, breathing on a respirator."

The unanswered second part of her question hung in the air. Irritated, Brennan repeated herself. Dr. Kaplan avoided the question. "You can go sit with him." She turned away.

"Doctor?" Brennan questioned. Her voice hit a high note. What did she know? Why wasn't she saying what was on her mind?

"I don't know yet, Dr. Brennan. We've run a series of imaging scans. I'll know more when all the results are in."

_Cancer. _She was purposefully not saying that whatever had happened to him was related to his disease. Brennan hurried away before she lost her composure. She went straight into the room she'd been pointed towards. Inside everything looked the same way as it always did. It was the same set, same scene. Only this time Booth was awake. A mask was strapped over his nose and mouth. Still, he wheezed. Tenderly she gripped his hand, just as she always did. Though his eyes were half open he still connected his gaze to hers.

"I'm here," she assured him.

It was there by his side she stayed. She slept besides him until the early morning hours. A nurse woke them while performing a check on his stats. She nodded approvingly. "I think you can have that mask taken off now. I'll alert your doctor."

Indeed, the wheezing had stopped over night. Booth breathed now in a normal, healthy rhythm. Over all he appeared healthier. And happier. There was a shine back in his eyes. Especially now with learning he didn't need assistance breathing any longer. He liked to believe that meant he was due to head back to the hotel soon.

Dr. Kaplan arrived a half an hour later. She appeared worn out, like she'd been up all night. She did all the necessary adjustments to the machines next to him before removing his mask. "How do you feel?" She wondered in a deadened voice.

"Better." He stretched out the word, studying her. Something was going on. Something terrible. Back to Brennan he directed his gaze.

"Good." Dr. Kaplan also turned to Brennan. "Can I have a word with you?"

"Of course." Brennan was surprised, yet knew she probably shouldn't have been. She stood from the chair she'd been in. Behind her she followed Dr. Kaplan out into the hall. Before Dr. Kaplan began she closed the door to Booth's room.

This all equaled a bad sign to Brennan. "What is it? Did you get his tests back?"

Dr. Kaplan nodded. She stared down at the floor as she spoke. "There's tumors in his chest. One particular is attached on his lungs."

Brennan gasped.

"I think that in his state of fear it agitated the tumor which blocked his airways, which is the cause for the sudden attack. The fact that he can breathe again now that he's settled confirms that."

Coldly, Brennan shot back, "I want to see his x-rays."

"I don't have a room with a light box available-"

"I don't care. Bring them out here."

"Are you seri-"

Brennan cut her off with a look. Dr. Kaplan slunk away like a homeless dog. She came back with several x-rays and other scans tucked in her arms. "I can't see how you can see-"

Brennan slid them out from under her arm. She held each one up to the light separately. And each one showed her worst fears. The cancer was growing at an alarming rate. She found the one of his lungs and critiqued it for a long time.

"I recommend chemotherapy." Dr. Kaplan said in a soft voice.

"He can't-" Brennan inhaled deeply, again fighting to keep control.

"His life is depending on it."

Booth may have not been able to hear what they were saying. But watching them through the window in his room told him there was trouble. He saw Brennan raise his scans up to the light. He'd never been an expert at reading medical tests. But he had become as adept as the two of them at reading x-rays.

He was getting sicker.


	45. Heading Home

The next few days were some of the hardest either of them had faced in quite some time. Booth changed after being informed of his cancer metastasizing. He reverted to being the same solitary man he'd been when he'd first been recovered. This grew to be more troublesome after he was released from the hospital. He hid himself away from Brennan again, leaving her grasping at straws in trying to figure out how to find him. Sometimes she was able to locate him. Others, she had to wait until he returned on his own volition. She tried to remind herself he always did come back. But it was hard to keep telling herself. She harbored much anger and resentment towards him. Did he not know what his disappearing acts did to her? Did he care? But she brought none of her emotions to him directly. Every time he reappeared she could see his own anger and disdain for his situation in his eyes. It was difficult, but she tried to let him have his time alone.

She recalled taking him skating. How happy and joyful he'd been doing something as simple as gliding around a hunk of ice. She needed to do something similar like that for him again. Something that would momentarily take his mind off of his problems. But skating was out. Despite his constant disappearing as acts to the contrary he had gotten too weak to skate. There had to be something. When the idea struck her, it seemed like pure genius. For confirmation of her good idea she found herself again dialing Angela. "What do you think of me asking Booth to marry me?"

There was silence across the line. "Wha-what?" Angela finally stammered.

"I think I should engage in the ritual of marriage."

"But you don't believe in marriage."

"I _didn't._" She corrected. "As of the past few years I have come to believe that marriage should be entered with good reasoning. I didn't have one before. Now I do."

More silence. At last, "but sweetie, you two-"

"We've been sexually intimate. Many times."

"What? When did this happen?"

"Before he got sick. Since then, when he still had the strength." She was depressed to realize he hadn't even shown any interest in sex in a long time.

"Wow." There was a smile in Angela's voice. "So you're saying you love him."

"Yes," she answered hesitantly, pushing the scientific arguments from her brain. Love was real. She felt it for him. "I've spent so many years of my life with him, Ange. I can see that extending for the rest of our lives."

"Then ask him."

Given the blessing, Brennan put her plan into motion. She near jumped Booth the minute he came in the door after he'd gone missing for a few hours. Her arms wrapped around his broad shoulders. She kissed him deeply. Booth was taken by complete surprise. "Bones?" He questioned.

"Come with me." She kissed him while leading him back through their hotel room to the bedroom. There she sunk down into the bed, tugging him with her.

"Bones, what are we-"

She brought his words to a stop by kissing his neck. Her hands massaged his body before dropping below his waist. He gasped, but it was out of desire and not shock. Any and all reluctance he'd been feeling was gone. He pushed her onto her back against the bed. She smiled, laughing a little and keeping her arms on his shoulders. That laughter turned into her own cry of pleasure as he put his moves on her. Clothes were taken off. Except he wouldn't let her remove his shirt. She found it odd, but was so caught up in the moment that it erased from her brain in a wave of bliss.

Afterwards they lay gasping together. Booth had a hard time getting his breathing back to normal. Brennan suddenly remembered his lung tumor and regretted her actions. Had she hurt him? Had she done more damage to his already ravaged body? After a while he was able to breathe normally again. But she could hear a wheeze every time he inhaled.

She lay curled up against his chest. Bluntly she sprung out with her ideas. "Lets get married."

His head snapped over to look at her. "What?"

"Lets get married." She repeated.

"You think marriage is an archaic tradition, Bones."

"I _did._" She corrected for a second time. "I don't anymore."

"You don't want to get married."

"But you do. You always have, Booth. For as long as I've known you."

Maybe he was over reacting. Maybe she was just saying things wrong. But Booth took it as a sign that she was giving up on him. She had no problems entering into marriage because he wouldn't be around much longer, anyways. He untangled himself from her and climbed out of bed. He started to get dressed.

"Booth?"

"Don't do me any favors, okay?" He told her. He stepped into his shoes and left the bedroom.

Brennan was hurt, and confused. She wrapped a sheet around herself and chased after him. "Booth? What?"

He looked at her before ducking out the door. Brennan stood, motionless. She still didn't understand what she'd done wrong.

Booth left the hotel. He walked down the sidewalk feeling hollow. At the corner he ducked into the store and bought beer. He was feeling an intense need to get wasted. Then he took himself back to the hotel to his new favorite hiding spot - the outdoor pool. The pool was located on the roof. Since it was off season no one really used it. It was the perfect spot for seclusion for him.

The night enveloped him when he stepped out of the elevator. The turquoise water shimmered reflections on his pale face. He pulled a chair right next to the water and sat down. Reaching into the bag, he retrieved a bottle of beer and opened it. He didn't allow himself to think about his encounter with Brennan. It was just too much for him to handle. He didn't blame her for giving up. Things didn't look good for him. After downing a bottle he began making calls. The first thing he did was cancel the chemotherapy session he had scheduled for the following day. There was no point. He believed there was no saving him. Next he called Rebecca. She still didn't know of the truth, and he knew she was getting angry he was blowing off his son. He detested the idea that she thought he was a bad father. It was time to set the record straight. "I'm in Las Vegas." He began after they'd exchanged frigid pleasantries.

"I know. Is your case over yet?"

"Rebecca, I'm not out here on a case."

"Then why? Is it for some girl, Seeley?"

"I have cancer." He stated plainly.

"Oh, my God," she murmured tearfully after a few minutes.

"I came out here with Bones because there was a specialist who was supposed to be able to help me."

"Has he?"

He admitted, "I don't know." Quietly he could hear her crying. His heart cringed.

"You have to come home, then. You need to see Parker. And he needs to see you."

"I know." He took another swig. "As soon as I know what's going on I'll call you."

"Okay. Take care of yourself, Seeley."

"I'm trying."

* * *

For the first few hours Brennan found herself appreciating the solo time. She still didn't understand what had happened with her proposal. Why had Booth reacted the way he had? She loved him. Couldn't he, who could read anyone instantly, be able to see that?

After he'd been gone for four hours and the midnight hours were setting in, she couldn't take it anymore. She dressed and went looking for him. All over the city she searched, turning up nothing with every frustrating turn. Upon coming back to the hotel she noticed a bright light shining up on the roof. If she believed in omens, she would have seen it as such. As it was she decided it was the one place she hadn't looked, and went to investigate.

She spotted Booth the minute she was off the elevator. His back was to her. He was surrounded by a number of beer bottles that ensured intoxication. Brennan's heart surged in anger. He was sick! How could he be so stupid as to get himself drunk? "Booth!" She stormed towards him. "How could you-" She stopped as she drew closer. A bloody cut was scabbing on his arm. He was sleeping, but must have just drifted off, for there were still tears on his cheeks. The rage transformed into sympathy. She leaned over him and patted his cheek. "Booth?"

He opened his eyes.

"Come on. Lets go to bed." She helped him up. He staggered next to her the whole way to their room. Inside he was already back asleep by the time she laid him down. She stripped off his shoes and pants. It was difficult but she managed to remove his jacket. His cell phone fell out of the pocket as she moved it. She didn't think twice to check his call log and see who he'd last phoned. _Rebecca. _She looked back at Booth. No doubt he missed his son. He probably missed his life back in D.C.

She went to remove his shirt and paused. During sex he had forced her to leave it on. What was he hiding? Gently she pulled the hem up to his collarbone. There on his chest muscle was a tumor pressed right up against the surface of his skin.

Maybe it was time to head back home.

* * *

Brennan was up before Booth the next morning. She went straight to Dr. Kaplan's office and burst in unannounced. "Booth and I are leaving. We're going back to D.C."

To say Dr. Kaplan was shocked was an understatement. "He can't fly, Dr. Brennan."

"We're driving. I've rented a car. I appreciate both your and Dr. Kibbel's expertise, and I thank you both. But he can continue his radiation and chemotherapy treatment at home."

"Chemotherapy? He's going through with it?"

"Yes. Why wouldn't he?"

"He cancelled his appointment he had today. I just assumed he wasn't doing it."

"Cancelled?" Brennan echoed. She was dumb founded. He'd blind sided her. It was just more confirmation that what she was doing was right. "We're going home. I'll be in touch." She turned on her heel and walked out.

Now it was time to inform Booth.


	46. Wedding Bells

_It's almost over. Do you believe me?_

_Go away. I really can't deal with you right now. _

_I would think you'd be used to me by now. We both know I'm not going away, baby. Do you believe in God?_

…_yes…_

_Then where is he?_

"Booth?"

Booth cracked an eye open. The sunlight burned straight into his retina. He cringed. Why was the room so bright? At the foot of the bed Brennan stood. Her hand was on his calf. "Come on," she said quietly. "We're leaving."

"Leaving?" He repeated. His voice sounded foreign even to himself. Around the room he looked to see their suitcases completely packed, save for a pair of jeans and a shirt she left out for him.

"We're going home."

Home? He couldn't fly. Was she crazy? Besides, she'd brought him out there in good faith that his doctors would be able to heal him. Had she suddenly changed her mind with his new diagnosis? "Why?"

"I think you need to. We both need to. I rented a car."

He rolled away from her onto his stomach. He was still so exhausted. He'd been stupid to drink so much, he realized now. But it wasn't as if he could undo time. "Not first thing in the morning. We'll go later."

"Booth, it's three in the afternoon."

At her words he pushed himself up into a push up position. Sure enough, the bed side alarm told him it was just after three. "Okay." From the bed he dragged himself to the shower. The hot water steamed away some of the night's aches. He proceeded to dress, then joined Brennan in the mostly empty living room area of their room. She was waiting with a thermos, which she handed to him. He twisted off the cap and took a whiff. The strong smell of coffee turned his stomach. He made a face.

"Drink. You'll feel better." She ordered.

Obediently he listened. Out to the car he helped her with the bags. Brennan had rented a recent model Ford Taurus. It was just big enough to cart their things while giving them a comfortable journey. Before Booth climbed into the passenger seat he fished a pair of sun glasses from his suit case. The combination of both that and the coffee were indeed making him feel somewhat better. He collapsed down into his seat and leaned his head against the glass.

Brennan got in and started the car. She let it idle, looking over to Booth. Things felt so strained between them. She wanted to do something to fix them. To fix him. "I meant it when I said I wanted to marry you," she said softly.

He lifted his head for the briefest of moments. "You don't wanna marry me, Bones. You're just willing to because I'm dying."

Her heart near tore from her chest. "Is that what you think?"

"You don't believe in marriage. You've made that pretty clear over the years there." His head bumped back against the window again. He looked straight ahead at the hotel building.

She felt a surge of anger. "Have I ever done or said anything I didn't mean?"

For a moment he seemed to consider it. "No. You don't, do you?" He smiled a little.

She wasn't sure if she was to feel amused or enraged. "I think we should get married because I love you, Booth. I'm willing to partake in this tradition for you. With you. I would like to enter a social contract that-"

"I get it." He held up a hand. Harder he was smiling. "Really? You really want to?"

"Yes." His smile was contagious. He leaned over and kissed her. "When?"

"Well, we're in Vegas. I'm told it's a common social activity to get married in a run down theme chapel."

Booth laughed. "Here? You want to get married here? Don't you want to do the whole white dress - walking down the aisle thing?"

She wrinkled her nose. "No. Oh! But what about you? You're a traditionalist, Booth. You want a big wedding, don't you?"

He thought about it for a moment. "We can do that later, when things are calmer. Lets just do it."

They took the next half an hour searching in the phone book for a chapel. It was Booth's choice, and he took the one with the cheesiest name. Next they chose to stay in Vegas one more night. As a "honeymoon" they booked another, fancier room at a different hotel. Soon they were driving through the city to the appointment they'd set up at the chapel. Neither one really spoke a word. There was a nervousness between them. Were they really going to go through with this? Booth reached for Brennan's hand and held it. The simple gesture was enough for her to know. Yes. She would do anything for him.

They pulled up to a blue hole-in-the-wall building that looked as though it was at one time a popular national chain pancake house. A sign that was nearly bigger than the building sat on top in bright glittery lights even though it was day time. Both of them stared in wide eyed, almost horrified wonder. "You still sure about this?" Booth asked in an uncertain voice.

Brennan opened her car door as a confirmation. "Okay." Booth remarked, following her lead. He picked up her hand again as they went inside. The two were no more in the door before they were seized on by a man in a blue blazer with a bad mustache. "WELCOME!" His overly exuberant voice caused Booth to get an instant migraine. "You two are here to get married? Come with me! We'll get you started!"

The next half an hour kept them so occupied that it was hard for either of them to focus. Before an official they signed a marriage license. "Hey," Booth said suddenly as the forms were being completed. "We don't have rings."

"We don't need them. They're nothing more than a symbol of-"

He cut her off with a dark look.

"We'll get them back in D.C."

That answer satisfied him. The two finished up and were directed into another room - the marriage room where the altar loomed before them. Booth took his cue and started forward. Brennan followed. He stopped and turned around. "Bones! You're supposed to walk down the aisle by yourself to the wedding march!"

"Why?"

He sighed. Why had he thought she'd follow traditional rules? Well, it wasn't important then. They could have that argument when they had their real wedding. _If I'm alive long enough for it. _Booth shook his head. He was hung over, and physically felt terrible. But he was the happiest he'd been in a long time. Maybe since before he was abducted. Today was not the day for negative thoughts. Sick or not, he wouldn't let himself.

At the altar they faced one another. A priest (if he was a priest, after all, this was Las Vegas) began the proceedings. They recited vows, each one not quite believing what they were doing. Neither one of them had ever dreamed they would have ended up here together. Yet when Brennan looked at Booth she couldn't imagine herself anywhere else. He would never be the man he was. This she knew. With everything he'd been through she felt she too had changed. All she knew was that she wanted to be by his side from now on.

Words broke into her thoughts. "You may now kiss the bride."

Booth kissed her passionately. He pulled her securely close to him. In his arms she grew dizzy from his embrace. It was easy to forget he was sick. Which she did. They drew so much attention to themselves that eventually the priest cleared his throat. They broke their embrace to look at him. Booth reddened. Brennan chuckled.

From the chapel they went straight to their new hotel. What it looked like, how big the room was, and all other important details were lost on them. They saw nothing but one another. They kissed on the way to their room. They kissed while opening the door. They kissed on the way to their bed pulling their clothes off as they did so. And at that moment their honeymoon began.


	47. The Road Trip Starts

In the early morning hours Brennan woke before Booth. She laid staring up at the ceiling in the dim light from the sun rising outside their window. Both were still completely undressed. They'd made love all throughout the night until they'd fallen asleep exhausted in each other's arms. At some point during the night Booth had rolled away and switched positions to lie on his stomach. Brennan could hear him now, rasping his breaths. She worried what the marathon had done to his insides. But that wasn't all that she worried about. In their absolute passion they'd been reckless. Neither had done anything to protect themselves during any of their acts. She knew she was safe from picking anything up from him. It was the other possibility she worried about. Pregnancy.

Booth rolled onto his back. He winced, making a grunting sound and repositioning himself. It didn't seem to help. His face remained twisted, though he slept on. The sound of his breathing grew harsher. Brennan put a hand on his chest to steady him. She inadvertently bumped the tumor on his muscle. His cry was sharp. He rolled away from her back onto his side.

Brennan remained quiet. Sorrowful. Booth's pain was getting worse. She'd begun noticing it, but had forgotten about it in the wave of their sudden marriage. He hadn't shown any signs of pain or hesitation over night. But she wondered if he'd been holding back. Obviously he was great at being secretive when he wanted to be. Perhaps that explained why she was awake while he slept on.

She carefully pried the sheet off the bed and wrapped it around herself. Quietly she left the room with her cell phone in hand. The room they'd booked had been up on the eighth floor, with a balcony overlooking the parking lot. She stole away to the safety of it; the safety of being out of ear shot. She made a call to Dr. Kibbel. "He needs new medication."

"Pardon me?"

Irritated by his gruffness, she went on to explain. "The pills you prescribed him are no longer helping. We need to adapt to this change and get him something else."

"I thought you left Las Vegas, Dr. Brennan. Shouldn't you be calling the other doctor you'll be taking him to?"

Brennan grit her teeth. She did her best to rein in her anger. "We haven't left yet. He's in pain, Dr. Kibbel. I'm asking you to do something about it. To help him, which I thought was why you became a doctor in the first place."

Dr. Kibbel sighed. "He's on the strongest dose of the most powerful pain killer I can give him without knocking him on his ass."

Brennan sucked in a breath. She hadn't known that, and now wished she didn't. "Then what are our options?"

"Not many. Because of the cancer we're a little limited on what we can do." He was silent for a moment. "I can call in a prescription of morphine. Do you think either of you would be able to inject it?"

Brennan felt like she'd be slapped. "Doctor, he spent a year being drugged by injection under duress."

He wasn't moved. "Think you can do it?"

"Morphine…" she continued. "Isn't that dangerous to give him in his state?"

"At this point I think the benefits outweigh the cons."

Brennan was alone in making the decision. It scared her, her seeming to have his life in her hands. Did she go ahead and give permission? Morphine was a powerful drug. What was Dr. Kibbel thinking in prescribing it? Was he sure Booth didn't have a chance at survival, and was trying to make his remaining months comfortable? Or was he just trying to help? Then there was the other obvious. What if Booth became addicted? On top of everything else there was no way they could handle another round of addiction. His body wouldn't withstand it. Minutes went by while she mulled over what to do. "We'll come in," she finally snapped before hanging up. Next to her she set the phone on the ground. She remained alone with her thoughts for a moment. Then she pushed herself up to her feet. It was time to begin her day.

After a shower and dressing, she went to wake Booth. By now he'd maneuvered onto his back. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. Brennan shook his shoulder. "Booth, get up. We should get going."

He opened his eyes. The glint in them was gone. He was completely blank. Mutely he watched her without saying a word.

"Booth? Come on." There was a tremble in her voice.

He blinked.

She tried stroking his face. Kissing him. Nothing worked. It wasn't until she sat him up that he began to recover. With a grunt he put his head in his hands. His shoulders shook. "Bones?"

"We're leaving. I'll go put our things in the car." She walked away before he could see her upset. It was her worst fear that one day she wouldn't be able to pull him back. Judging by the way things were going, that day was rapidly approaching.

She'd just put his suitcase in the car when he emerged from the hotel. He handed her a muffin while nibbling on one he'd gotten for himself. "Breakfast, Bones." He seemed pretty pleased with himself.

She couldn't help but to smile back. The two got into the car. They ate in a joined, comfortable silence. "Before we leave we're going to see Dr. Kibbel. He's giving you a different medication for your pain." She said once they were finished. "I know yours isn't working anymore."

He looked at her guiltily. "I thought you couldn't tell."

"You should have told me sooner." She started the car. Out of the space she backed, and merged into traffic. "We can't help if you don't tell us you need it."

He silently directed his gaze elsewhere. The rest of the drive was filled with silence. Any time Brennan checked on Booth his eyes were closed. But he wasn't sleeping, she knew. Sweat was beading his brow, and he was ghastly white. His breathing would change into a drastic gasping before righting itself again.

The stop in Dr. Kibbel's office was quick. He showed them how to inject the morphine just underneath the skin. Within minutes from the injection Booth slumped in relief. He smiled goofily at Brennan. Even though she'd still had doubts she assured herself then that she'd done the right thing.

Outside the office she helped him into the passenger seat of the car. He was still out of it, something Dr. Kibbel had guaranteed her would change as he got used to the medicine. "We're going home?" He asked. "How long will it take to get there?"

"Depending on our rate of travel and stops I'm anticipating five days."

He'd stopped listening before she'd even begun. Before she closed the door he kissed her. "I love you."

She smiled warmly. "I love you too, Booth."

The beginning of the drive didn't go so smoothly. The drug had seemed to revert Booth back into a child. He played with his seat belt latch, seeming fascinated with hooking and unhooking it. From there he moved onto the window. Repeatedly he pressed the opposite ends of the button, grinning to himself in amusement as the window rose and fell at his command. Finally Brennan put on the child safety feature to stop him. The button went dead. He pouted over his shoulder at her. After another ten minutes of boredom he fell asleep. Only then did Brennan let herself chuckle out loud.

She drove straight through till dinner time with nothing but the radio playing. For most of the drive she kept herself deeply immersed in thought. Next to her Booth slept on peacefully. It was the most serene she'd seen him in a long time. This worried her. She was happy they'd found something to escape his pain. But at what price was it coming? It seemed to her like it was a bad sign that they'd had to step up his treatment.

Finally her stomach began to growl in protest. The muffin she'd had so many hours ago had long burned off. She pulled into the first restaurant she found, which happened to be a small road side diner. "Booth." She woke him.

"We here?"

She frowned. Did he really think he'd slept for five days straight? "No. I've stopped so we can get dinner."

"Dinner?" He repeated, puzzled. He straightened in his seat and peered out the windshield.

His confusion was worsening. "Yes, Booth. I've stopped so we can eat."

"Right." He got out. He still looked uncomfortably out of his element as they went inside. Brennan led them directly up to the counter and sat down upon a stool. Booth mimicked her motions. Brennan yanked a menu out from its place tucked in between two over sized salt and pepper shakers. Booth leaned over her shoulder to examine it with her.

They were still looking when a shadow fell over them. A voluptuous woman stood in a waitress' uniform. Her hands were planted on her hips. "What'll it be for y'all?"

"Where'd you say we were again?" Booth under toned to Brennan.

"I didn't." She shot back. "We're still looking over your guide." She held up the menu for the waitress to see.

The woman pursued her lips. "Well, now, if y'all can't make up your mind then I'll do it for you." She looked Booth up and down. "You're way too skinny, sugar." Without breaking glance she yelled, "one heart attack with a side of gravy!" Booth startled.

She moved onto Brennan. "You just look flat out exhausted." She followed the same routine. "One red eye with an orange juice!"

Booth and Brennan exchanged glances. What had they gotten themselves into? While they waited the waitress made small talk with them. "Y'all together?" She gestured to the two of them.

"Just married," Booth agreed.

"Mmhmm. Good thing." She winked at him. Booth shot a discreet, horrified look at Brennan. She smirked back, enjoying it.

Their meal was soon placed down in front of them. Both plates were packed with food; breakfast for Brennan, and steak with mashed potatoes for Booth. Again the couple eyed one another and shrugged. They dug in. The food was delicious. Brennan had no problem just about clearing her plate. Booth ate half of his, which was the most he'd been able to eat in some time.

"You want the rest to take home?" The waitress offered. "I could box it up." She stuck out a hip and cocked an eyebrow. "You wanna take me home, too? I certainly can box it up."

Brennan nearly snorted the sip of orange juice she was drinking. Booth glared at her. "I'm good, thanks."

While Brennan paid the bill Booth waited outside. The clear night sky had stars blinking down over him. They looked adrift in a vast black velvet sea. As he looked voices began to fill his head. The memories soon blocked out his sight.

_Amanda pulled back the taser she had set against Booth's skin. He was forced to stare at her, gasping and waiting._

"_You're just sabotaging yourself." She warned him. "Everything that happens is all your fault. You got it?"_

The memory then distorted, blending in with another one.

_Eight year old Booth was backed into a corner. He had his hands spread out on both sides of the walls next to him. He looked up in fear to his father who was loosening his belt. "I don't know why you do these things, Seeley." He muttered, taking a sip from a bottle of Jack Daniels before setting it down on the kitchen floor. "You're making me do this."_

"Booth?"

The vision faded away. He found that he was no longer upright. During the flashback he'd collapsed down onto his side. Loose pebble and dirt had lodged into scrapes on his arm and face. He sat straight up into Brennan's arms. She steadied him, putting a hand on his forehead. "What happened?"

"I don't know," he admitted breathlessly. "Bones, I don't know."

She kept her thoughts to herself. Carefully she helped him to his feet. "Lets stay in town for the night."

He readily agreed. She trailed him back to the rental car where she helped him get inside. For a long moment she watched him, wondering what was happening in his mind.


	48. Start Spreadin' The News

Once again Brennan found herself awake most of the long overnight hours. The candle was burning at both ends. She was worn out, and emotionally stretched to her limit. Her heart was like a bloated balloon ready to explode with the first pin prick. She spent a good amount of time watching Booth while he slept. His face was shadowed in the pale light the lamp on the desk next to her gave off. She could see the stress lines that had formed on his face. His eyes had sunken in from his weight loss. And even in his sleep his brow was furrowed. The brain tumors were taking their time disfiguring his physical appearance as they grew. She'd been trying to convince herself that time was relative. Booth was meant to live, therefore they'd get back to D.C. in time for him to continue his treatment. There'd be enough time to get help in whatever form they could find. Though she hadn't been impressed with most of the medical care D.C. had offered them, Brennan was determined to find someone who could help him. She'd even consider natural remedies, which she normally scoffed at. Anything to save the man she loved.

But Booth was making it increasingly obvious that time was running short. Too much time had already been wasted in the months leading up to his diagnosis. It'd been over two years since he'd been initially abducted, and nearly a year since he'd come back to her. She laid close to him thinking of all the progress he'd made since she'd first brought him home from the hospital. Despite his body's regressing he was still striding ahead. It was a beautiful disaster.

Sometime in the morning she dozed off with her head on his chest. She awoke to her cell phone chirping it's merrily ring tone in her ear. She jerked awake, propelling herself off of Booth. One glance back at him told her he was still sound asleep. Astounded, she shook her head. How could he possibly sleep through that racket? Off the night stand she snatched her phone. Through the hotel she hurried until she was safely outside. The number on her caller ID wasn't one she recognized, nor did it begin with an area code she recognized. Just as it was about to go to voice mail she clicked on. "Brennan."

"Is this Dr. Temperance Brennan?"

"Who's calling please?" She asked warily.

"This is Dr. David Morris. I've been put in touch with you through doctors Kaplan and Kibbel."

Brennan scrunched up her nose. What was going on? "How can I help you, doctor?"

"It's more, how can I help you? I'm a colleague of Kaplan and Kibbel. They sent your boyfriend's-"

"Husband." She quickly corrected with oddly placed pride. "He's my husband."

"Right. They sent your husband's case for me to review. I've been through all his papers and imaging scans. He's got quite a bit going on."

"Yes, he does. So what makes you think you can help?" She asked testily. After being up all night worrying about him she really didn't want to begin her morning by being reminded how serious Booth's illness was. It wasn't anything she didn't already know.

"I'm a premier surgeon. I've dealt with thousands of cancer patients with tumors in dangerous and foreign places."

"The point?" Brennan leaned her back against the hotel building's wall. She was so tired. Her eyes closed.

"I believe I can help your husband. I'm sure I can remove the tumors in his head with little brain damage."

Her eyes popped back open. A light of hope reignited in her chest. "Really?" Her voice sounded like a child's.

"Yes. It'll be tricky. There's no denying that. But I think it can be done. Do you think you can get him here?"

"Where are you based out of?"

"New York."

"We're only in Utah right now. He can't fly, so we're traveling by car." She exhaled. "But we'll come. I'll call you when we're getting close."

"I'll leave a spot open for you."

Brennan thanked him sincerely before hanging up. She rushed inside in a flurry of excitement. If this doctor was right then perhaps he could truly save Booth's life! First though she needed to get them there. Fast. New York and Utah were at opposite ends of the country. Just how, without booking them a flight, could she pull this off? Could she get Booth to fly? She thought back to their trip over. Booth had been in so much pain that he hadn't even been able to so much as stand up until the plane had touched down. How would she be able to ask him to do it again? Somehow she'd just have to find a way to talk him into it. Pain or not, the quicker they arrived in New York, the quicker they could begin nursing him back to health.

She went back into where Booth was sleeping to wake him. Yet again he was difficult to rouse. When she did, he had the blank stare as he did every other morning. He winced dramatically when she tried to touch him. Frustrated, she pulled back and watched him. "Come on, Booth. It's me. Remember."

He laid still, fixating his gaze on the ceiling as he breathed in a fast procession. His eyes fluttered closed. A muffled moaning sound started in his throat. Brennan knew then that there was no way she could ever ask him to fly again. In these moments of not being himself, when his defenses were down, that was when she could truly see the extend of the danger he was in. The pain. If this was how he felt now then she knew he wouldn't be able to handle another flight. She didn't have the heart to ask him.

On weak arms he pushed himself up into a sitting position. His torso trembled. But when he opened his eyes he looked straight to her. Once again he carried that look of recognition. She smiled in relief to see he was back. There was obviously something linked between his brain comprehension and rising up after laying for long periods of time. This was something she'd have to remember. "How do you feel?"

He ignored her question, just as he always did. The quivering in his muscles grew worse with each minute that passed. Sweat coated his skin. In trying to conceal his pain he was only making it worse. His eyes stayed locked on Brennan's as he mentally tried to urge her to leave the room. She, naturally, didn't understand. Regretfully he broke, unable to deal with the severity of his symptoms anymore. He retrieved a needle and injected a shot of morphine into his hip. Only then did he become completely Booth again. Tiredly he gave her a pathetic smile. "Hi." He kissed her.

"I have news," she kissed back. "I got a call from a doctor in New York."

"Yeah?" He breathed.

"A doctor called me this morning. He thinks he can help you."

Booth swung his legs around the side of the bed. He gripped onto the edge with his fingers. Silently he allowed his eyes to ask his question. How?

"He's a surgeon. He's sure he can remove the tumors from your brain with minimal damage."

His face went completely expressionless. Brennan panicked. Had she lost him again? "Booth?"

"Yeah." He pushed himself up onto his feet. "He really thinks he can do this?"

"He wants to meet with us. But he's in New York. Instead of going home we'd be heading straight there."

Booth was quiet, leaving Brennan to wonder what his thoughts were. "Yeah," he finally said casually. "Sure. I mean, you're the driver. I'm just the passenger."

Though he didn't intend to his words stung. Brennan's expression fell. Wordlessly she stood. Booth didn't realize what he'd done until she was almost out of the room. "Bones, wait!" He hobbled over to her side. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that to sound insensitive. I just mean, where ever you go is where I'll go. I just want to be with you. If you think this doctor can do something then I trust that." He tentatively rested his hands on her hips. His forehead playfully bumped hers. "I'll follow you," he whispered.

Her spirit lifted. Booth was on board! She kissed him passionately. "Then we should get going."

"What's the rush?" Now that he was awake, medicated, and had a plan, he felt impish. He tugged on a strand of her hair.

"We have to get to New York, the sooner the better."

"Yeah, but," his lips caressed hers. "We still have to have breakfast." He dipped his head and kissed her neck. "And shower." Without stopping his movements he managed to back her up towards the bathroom.

Just as always his kisses weakened her. Still, she tried to protest. "But we really-"

"The road will still be there in an hour, Bones."

It didn't take much persuasion. With a shake of her head and a smile, she gave in.


	49. Heart to Heart

The bed trembled beneath Brennan. It shook back and forth before bouncing up and down. Her first thought in her half awake jumbled brain was that an earthquake was shaking the land. But they were well into Nebraska. Nebraska didn't have earthquakes. Did they? The idea was shot down when she heard a groaning noise next to her. Blindly in the dark she reached out until she felt a light switch. She turned the small lever counter clock wise until she heard a clicking noise. Soft light shone through their hotel room.

Besides her Booth was trapped in his mind. He thrashed back and forth before settling down for only mere moments. Sweat beaded on the skin on his forehead, checks, and neck. The top of his shirt was soaked. He grimaced, making faces while struggling for air. Brennan knew she needed to wake him. If he got upset enough to aggravate the tumor on his lung then disaster would strike. "Booth!" She shook his shoulder.

They'd only been on the road two days and it already was making all the difference in Booth. Being away from doctors and therapy had been good for him. Emotionally and spiritually he was healing. He was becoming Booth again. There was a light of happiness back in his eyes. He still slept a lot, still had to inject morphine, and his ability to eat and keep food in his stomach was becoming compromised, but he was back to clowning around with her. The hope she had strengthened.

Until night came around. The first night Booth had slept straight through without a problem until morning. When she'd woken him he'd been difficult to rouse. He'd stared at her cluelessly for a full ten minutes. He hadn't known where he was, who she was, or even who _he_ was. Then as if someone flipped a switch, he was back. Just as always he was completely unaware of the incident.

"Booth!" She shook him again. She had no idea what to expect when she was able to pull him out of nightmare. "Come on! Wake up!"

He grunted. His head turned away from her. All of a sudden his eyes popped open. He jerked up into a sitting position. While struggling to get his breath under control he rubbed at his chest. She could see the pain he was in. "Booth?" She questioned again, almost fearfully. Was he there? Did he know what was going on?

He gasped. His eyes met hers. She had an instant warm feeling of comfort. Booth hadn't gone into one of his trances. Slowly he laid back down on his pillow. His gaze went straight up to the ceiling.

"Are you all right?" She wondered.

He inhaled deeply before nodding. His heart beat was beginning to fade out of his ears. "Yeah." The color returned to his face. He sighed then, closing his eyes again.

"I know. It's okay. You're all right." She took his hand.

He opened his eyes to look down at their hands. His silence was troubling her. "What is it, Booth? What are you thinking?"

Unlike every other instance she'd asked him, this time he spoke the truth. "I'm afraid."

She frowned. "I know. But you're okay."

"No. That's not what I mean." He pushed himself up onto one elbow. "I'm afraid one of these days I'm going to wake up and find out this is all a dream. My nightmares are my real life and all of this is just somewhere I go to."

Brennan wasn't quite sure what to say to that. "Booth… no. You're safe now. You know that."

"I'm never safe." He muttered with a shake of his head. At last his breathing had found a healthy rhythm. He looked to her again. "What if I die, Bones?" The question had been burning inside him for months. Death was a forbidden topic between them. It was the elephant in the room, obvious but not talked about.

"You won't."

"You can't promise that."

"This doctor will be able to help you. I've researched him on the internet." Last night in their hotel room she'd spent hours searching Dr. Morris's background. He hadn't been putting himself up during their conversation. He really did have a way with removing tumors in seemingly impossible places. There had been more news articles on lives he'd saved than she could have possibly read in one night. "He's highly recommended. He's done astounding things for cancer patients."

"Yeah but, what if I'm the exception?"

"You won't be."

His stare was taken with a faraway look. "It's ironic. I wasted so much time wishing I was dead. Now I just want to live."

Though his words were sad they still elated her. He wanted to live. Despite the way it seemed he wasn't giving up. He himself just needed some hope. He needed to talk out what he was feeling instead of keeping it bottled up. "You'll survive, Booth. Look at everything you've been through."

"It's too much." He insisted in a strained voice. "I'm not strong anymore."

"I know you don't feel it. But you are. All this proves your resilience." She squeezed his hand affectionately. "You're obviously still here for a reason."

He smiled a little. "That sounds pretty religious coming from you, Bones. You don't believe in God."

"No." She relented. "But _you_ do. And I know you. Now is not the time to be questioning your faith. You need to hold onto everything you've got. _I_ need you to hold onto it."

"I'm just so tired." He closed his eyes. "And I'm tired of being tired. I'm tired of being worried, and afraid. I'm tired of feeling like I'm never going to feel any better than this."

"You will. You just need to give this doctor a chance."

"I will." He looked to her yet again. "I'm not giving up. I don't want you to think that." It'd been festering underneath the surface for too long.

"I know." She stroked his hair. He shut his eyes and leaned into her touch. As he started to fall back asleep she smiled at him. "Just keep fighting. You'll feel better soon. This will all be over. And we can go on a honeymoon."

He grinned largely. She seized that emotion and soothed him off into a deep sleep by using her writer's imagination to describe a perfect honeymoon scene for him. All while speaking she massaged his body, being careful to avoid his tumors. After a while she curled herself up to him. Her head laid down on his chest. His rhythmic pulse beating in her ear became her own lullaby. She too, fell into a heavy sleep.

* * *

Booth woke in the morning alone. Solo he went through his trance until he snapped back into reality all on his own. He looked to where Brennan was and was surprised to see she wasn't in bed besides him. She _always _waited for him to get up ever since he'd gotten sick. The peculiarity worried him. "Bones?" He called, pushing himself up and out of bed. He stumbled to the door. "Bones?" He tried again.

"I'm in here." A weak voice answered from the bathroom. He used the wall to support himself as he walked. He found Brennan sitting on the tile floor next to the toilet. She smiled faintly at him. Her eyes were watery. But not from sadness. No. There was something else going on.

"Bones? Are you okay?" He gripped the door jamb.

"Yes." She didn't say anything more. He didn't like her silence. Or the flushed pink color in her cheeks. "Are you sure? Because, no offense there but you don't look too hot. If you're feeling sick we can always stay another day."

"No." She used the sink to help herself up. "We need to get going. I'll be all right."

Booth wasn't too sure. But there was nothing he could do to convince her. "If you're sure…"

She nodded and forced a smile. Reluctantly he turned away. As soon as he was gone she smoothed a hand across her stomach. It turned beneath her touch. All over again she felt ready to vomit. And she knew exactly why.


	50. Look After You

**Author's Note**: I will say now that these next few chapters are likely to be pretty depressing. I'm trying to make this story realistic, and it can be difficult balancing happy with a life threatening disease in the stage Booth's is in. I will say though without hopefully revealing too much, that this story isn't going to end the way I think everyone is predicting, and it's worth reading the whole way through. That being said, thanks for reading and enjoy!

* * *

"All I know is all we are" - Nirvana

* * *

"Bones, are you sure you don't want to stop?"

"No, Booth. I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

Brennan grinded her teeth in frustration. She looked across the car at him. He was gazing back at her intently with a raised eyebrow. "Why do you keep asking me that?"

"Because out of five gas stations we've stopped at the last four because you've been sick. Obviously you got the stomach flu or something. We can stay another day."

"We need to get to New York." She set her foot down more firmly on the accelerator as if to prove her point. "We've used up too much time."

"I don't want you pushing it if you're sick." He fought back gently.

She could have told him the true reason for her sickness. Or at least, her suspected reason. The vomiting had been in procession with a long line of symptoms that had emerged over the past few days. Symptoms she had ignored and chalked up to stress. Now when she looked at it scientifically she could add up the facts and make a conclusion. But she didn't want to say anything to Booth until she took a pregnancy test. There was no need in getting him excited only to be let down. She wasn't sure he could take it. Hell, she wasn't sure _she _could take it, especially seeing what was sure to be his disappointed expression. Booth loved being a father. She knew not being able to see Parker for so many months had put a hole in his heart. Flatly, she retorted, "I'm _fine._"

He shrugged. Her word was law and he knew that. Especially when she was the one driving. Although if they stopped again it would be easy for him to slip into the driver's seat. But with the way he was feeling he was aware of what he was capable of. Driving was not one of those things. Particularly with the way his vision had been fading in and out.

They'd no more passed the state line before her stomach churned again. Without saying a word to him she pulled over to the side of the road. She flung the door open, jogging over to the grass just in time. What little breakfast she'd been able to eat since the last time she had vomited spilled onto the grass. She was coughing when she felt an arm wrap around her hips. A hand brushed her hair away from her face. If she was capable of it she would have smiled.

When she finished she felt dizzy. Booth supported her. "Easy, Bones. C'mere." He guided her back to the car and sat her down into her seat. Across her he reached into the car's cupholders and withdrew his drink. That morning before they'd left they'd gotten breakfast at a fast food restaurant, despite her objections concerning his health and bad food. Booth had finished all of his juice and left the ice behind. Now he poured the remaining cool water onto a napkin. Affectionately he wiped the sweat and heat from her face and neck. Instantly she began to feel better. She couldn't help but to smile as he took charge. These simple things were some of the ones she loved most about him. "Thank you."

"Feel better?" He held the paper to her forehead.

"Much." She swung her feet back into the car.

"I really think we should stop for the day."

Irritation again. "No. We have time to make up for."

He sighed, but nodded. He crossed the length of the car and got back in. In silence they eased off the shoulder and back into traffic.

Booth was quiet for the next few hours of the ride. Brennan looked to him from time to time. He was sound asleep with his head against the window. She'd come to figure that he liked the cool glass against his warm skin. That combined with the steady motion of the car lulled him into a sweet peace. She was grateful for any comfort he could find.

It was early in the afternoon when Booth's eyes suddenly opened. They were just in the outskirts of Chicago. He blinked with a odd, dazed look in his eyes. Brennan felt her shoulders tense. "Booth?"

He licked his lips. After a delay he finally responded to her. His eyes showed her a man not completely aware of his surroundings. He turned from her to look out the window. She noticed the muscles in his chest and stomach clench. His breathing sped up in urgency.

"Booth?"

"I want to stop." He murmured faintly. His eyes closed again as his head fell back onto the seat's head rest.

"I can pull over."

"No. I want to lay down." His desire was to stop all together.

She hated to stop but could tell she needed to. "I'll look for a hotel." She promised. Worriedly she kept a well trained eye on him. Booth was looking worse by the minute. At that moment she became angry as she second guessed herself. Had she done the right thing by dragging him across the county? Should she have found some way to fly them out there, even if it meant increasing Booth's pain? Should she have tried to arrange for Dr. Morris to fly out to them?

What was done was done. She couldn't change it. But she hated herself for not trying to come up with different options. The first decent hotel she saw she pulled into. She shut off the car just outside the doors leading into the main lobby. "Booth?" She asked him. He appeared damn near comatose. "Maybe we should just go to the hospital." Something was going on with him.

"No. Jus' wanna lay down." He was back to slurring.

Even though she had her objections she got them checked in. She maneuvered Booth from the parking lot into a room on the first floor. Inside she led him straight into the bedroom. He crawled into the bed and sprawled out. She removed his coat and shoes. Then she sat down next to him. "Booth?"

He didn't respond. His soft snoring indicated to her that he'd already drifted off. She ran her hand through his hair, pulling away when he unconsciously winced. That was new. Worry pushed bile through her stomach. She had to leave him behind as she got sick once again. When she was finished she sat down on the floor to collect herself. This was stupid. She needed to take a pregnancy test. The chances were she was pregnant. But if she had something else going on, such as the flu, then she risked infecting him.

She checked on Booth who slept on tiredly. Her mind was made up. She could run out without leaving him for too long. She needed answers, and she needed them now. Leaving him behind, she fetched her keys. She wouldn't be gone but a few minutes.

* * *

Booth was woken abruptly for no apparent reason from a deep sleep. He felt awful. He felt _beyond _awful, but he couldn't identify how. Or why. His eyes swept the room. Where was he? How had he gotten here? The last thing he remembered was Brennan vomiting by the side of the road. "Bones?" He called, sitting up.

No one answered. Carefully he pushed himself forward some across the mattress. In the next room he could see Brennan on the phone. She had her back to him. Her words were soft. Inaudible. Who was she talking to?

"She's cheating on you."

He glared in annoyance at the space next to him. Amanda had materialized. As time passed and she continued to decompose her appearance grew in its disgust. "I thought I got rid of you." He muttered. She hadn't appeared to him in days.

"You won't ever get rid of me." She watched Brennan. "Such a shame. Just married and already she'd had enough of you. It's no wonder. It's not like you're much of a man." Her eyes flicked over him. "Especially now."

"Bones wouldn't cheat on me." A onset of dizziness dropped him onto his back. "She's probably talking to my doctor, or something."

"You hope." She chuckled.

"There's no way." He argued. But the seed of doubt had been planted. Under normal circumstances he'd never believe such a thing. Hence his strong argument. But as the tumors continued to warp and eat at his mind, his thoughts and personality were changing. Everything in his life was distorted. It was something he'd become aware of and had continuously tried to rein back in. These days he felt like he was acting, instead of just being. He wondered how much time he had left in him.

"Oh yeah? You can't satisfy her any longer. She's got to be getting it somewhere."

He shut his eyes tightly. "Why can't you just leave?" He whispered. The dizziness increased in its severity. Amanda responded, but he couldn't hear her. When he opened his eyes he saw nothing but darkness. His fingers twitched. He began gasping. Unfortunately he knew exactly what was coming on. He'd prepared for it. But there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Brennan walked in just as his body erupted into a grand mal seizure. She rushed to his aid. Cautiously she put her hands on him just securely enough to keep him from shaking off of the bed. Lifetimes seemed to pass before the episode came to a stop. Booth went limp. His ragged breathing soon eased as the symptoms let up. However, he remained unconscious. She watched him closely, wondering if they were due for another cluster episode.

She stayed close by, only straying from him long enough to get her phone. "He just had a seizure," she told Dr. Morris the moment his receptionist patched her though to him.

"Where are you?"

"Chicago."

Dr. Morris didn't hide his tone of defeat. "Just keep coming."

"It'll be at least another two days-"

"I know. I know it's asking a lot of him." He didn't, but he could tell by her weary voice that it was. "But it's all I can tell you to do."

Numbly Brennan thanked him and hung up. She looked back to her sleeping husband. It occurred to her then that Booth had known this was to happen. That was exactly why he'd made them stop. "We have to keep going," she whispered out loud to him. "I don't know what else to do for you."


	51. Worth Fighting For

Despite the difficultly Booth willingly loaded back into the car with Brennan early the next morning. She'd let him rest the entire day. Luckily he hadn't had another seizure. But the episode had done it's damage. Before they'd even left the hotel room he'd required a large dose of morphine. Walking had become a difficult task. He leaned against her and collapsed into the seat once they'd reached the car. Since he made no other movements she reached across him to buckle him in. That was when he sprung it on her. "Who were you talking to?" His voice was low, and staggering. She straightened up and looked at him, clearly confused by his question. "Who? When?"

He shut his eyes. After a moment he said tiredly, "before."

"Before when?"

He had no idea. He just blinked back up at her. The only thing she could think of was right before his seizure. She'd confirmed her pregnancy; the test had been positive. From there she'd immediately gotten on the phone with a doctor to book an appointment in New York. Her care wouldn't be there. She'd transfer everything back to D.C. But she wanted to get started. Yet she still didn't want Booth knowing. Not just yet. He needed to focus on himself. And with the current state he was in she wasn't sure he'd understand, anyway. "It's nothing, Booth."

"You're… cheating?"

Her heart stopped beating. "What?"

"Why… Amanda said…"

Her expression fell. As did her stomach. "She's not real, Booth. Remember?"

He glanced past her. She knew then that he no longer could tell the difference between real and fake. Everything his imaginary foe said imprinted into his conscious. In order to draw back his attention she kissed him on the lips. It took a heart breaking second before he responded back to her touch. "Rest," she urged, touching his cheek.

His eyes had already closed yet again. He nodded.

She pushed the limit as to how fast she could drive without being pulled over by police. There would be no more stops. No more overnights. She wasn't pulling over again until they were in New York. Booth couldn't take any more hold ups. Her fear motivated her. Time was against them, and winning.

Booth dozed on and off. He began trembling an hour and a half into their drive. Brennan woke him. "What's wrong? Are you cold?"

Again with the nod. She turned the heat on full blast. When she was dying of sweat and he still shook, she fished a blanket one handed out of the back seat and spread it over his body. It did little to deter the cold. But his trembling wasn't as fierce. He drifted off again.

In the quiet she allowed her thoughts to run wild. Pregnant. It wasn't the right time. Not that it stopped her from being ecstatic. It was the bright ray of sun in the otherwise dark storm. But how did she tell Booth? And when? Would it cheer him up, give him something more to fight for? Or would he become down on himself? She thought yet again of how much it bothered him to be an absentee father to Parker. Though it wasn't as though he could help it. Then there was the big question. Would he comprehend if she told him? If she had to judge by the behavior he'd demonstrated in the last twenty four hours, then no. What was she to do?

Suddenly the sound of his breathing became very noticeable to her. She shut off her mind to listen closely. There was something there that wasn't before. His breaths were more labored. But something else was going on. She listened harder before realizing what it was. Booth had become congested. After everything else now he was fighting off a cold. "Damn it!"

He stirred. She regretted her actions. "Sorry. Go back to sleep."

"Where are we going?"

"New York."

"Why?"

Unintentionally she gasped. Tears burned her eyes. No. Not now. This couldn't be happening. She had to remain collected. "To save your life."

When she saw him looking past her, her anger increased. "Whatever she's saying, don't listen. We _will _save you, Booth. This isn't the end. It's not your time."

Amanda was laughing and mocking Brennan. "She's lying to you. She's playing the 'good wife.' She really wants you out of the way so she can be with her other lover."

Booth winced. He knew better than to listen. But she was driving him insane. It was difficult for him to shut her out. When Brennan saw tears in his eyes she knew she needed to intervene. "She's not real. Listen to me."

"Who were you on the phone with?"

He was back to this? "No one, Booth."

"It was someone."

"It was a doctor."

"Which?"

She wasn't sure she could handle his questioning. She tried to keep telling herself he wasn't in his right mind. But she still went back and forth between wanting to protect him and wanting to throttle him. "It doesn't matter right now. Please, Booth. Just relax."

"I don't want to do this anymore, Bones."

"I know. We're almost there."

He passed out again. Bit by bit she was losing him. By the time they reached the New York state line he'd broken out into a fever. She stopped at a convenience store on the way. Inside in addition to juice and aspirin, she surprisingly found a thermometer. Once she paid for all the items she ran back to the car which she'd left running. The first thing she did was check his temperature. It was one hundred and two. She next fed him the aspirin. He drank enough juice to swallow the pills, but turned his head away when she offered more. "You need to drink," she told him gently. He stubbornly refused. "Booth-"

"I don't… wanna do this anymore." He repeated faintly. Outside lightning struck. Rain cascaded from the darkened sky.

She understood now what he meant. Booth was too tired to keep trying. He'd lost what little strength he had left. This developing cold was taking what the cancer hadn't been able to touch. He felt too ill to continue on. "Booth," she lowered her voice. She pulled him into her arms and held him. "You can't give up. We're too close."

Booth could hear Amanda even if he couldn't see her. "This is why it was so easy to dominate you. You're just as pathetic as you were then."

_Booth's wrists and ankles hurt from being restrained. A presence rolled him onto his back. A strong force held down his hips. "If you remain still it'll all be over soon," a voice promised. "Then again, if you squirm, it'll be more fun for me."_

Brennan knew he was hallucinating. She knew it the instant he tensed his muscles. "Booth! Come on!" She tried to bring him back to reality by touching his face. He recoiled, as if her hand was a hot poker. He breathed heavily in her arms, which of course was dangerous in his condition. She couldn't lose him. She had to bring him back. "Calm down. Please. Booth, it's me." She tried stroking his back. "Listen. It's me."

At last he stopped wiggling. He slumped against her. Since she had his attention she kept talking. "I know you're tired. I know you're sick. I know me knowing isn't doing you any good." She sighed. "But please don't stop fighting. Give this doctor a try." She gazed straight down into his eyes. "Give me a chance."

"She poisoned me," he whispered. "She made me sick."

"I know." Brennan wasn't all that sure. But for his sake she agreed. "You can't let her win. As hard as it is you have to fight this."

"Fight?" Amanda sneered in his mind. "Your fighting days are over. You've already got one foot in the grave."

Brennan's voice was suddenly right next to his ear, drowning out Amanda's laughing. "You can't quit, Booth. You can't. You're not just fighting for us anymore."

Intrigued and confused, he opened his eyes and gave her a questioning look. Who else was he living for? What was she talking about?

She exhaled deeply. This wasn't how she'd wanted to do this. But he needed to hear it, she decided. "It was a doctor I was on the phone with yesterday. I'm pregnant."

His eyes grew large. He was stunned into speechlessness.

"I'm not very far along. But I was arranging a check up with a doctor while we were in New York to be sure everything is all right."

"No way," he finally whispered. His eyes were still as wide as his sickness would allow them to be. He wore a dopey smile. It disappeared when he sneezed, reminding them both of the danger currently at hand.

"Just hold on a little bit longer. We need you." She couldn't imagine trying to raise a baby without him. His baby. This time when she offered him the bottle he drank until it was finished. Then he reclined back in his seat once again and closed his eyes. He breathed through his mouth as he fell back asleep.

_He'll be all right, _she told herself as she began driving again. _He knows now. He won't give up. _But she wasn't stupid. Things looked hopeless. She only hoped Booth would get through this latest bump in the road. She'd do whatever she could to see him through.


	52. The Final Showdown

The aspirin didn't touch his illness. The further she drove the more obvious this became. His flesh burned red. He sweated through terrible tremors. Even with the fever and a blanket he couldn't get warm. Periodically he coughed, driving a deep roar from his lungs. Brennan managed to keep her composure through it all. That was until Booth moaned. His body became rigid. His teeth grinded together. Seeing him in that state drew forth a rage of fury. "I can't drive any faster, Booth." Her anger wasn't really at him or with him. But since he was there and she needed to direct her energy at someone, he became the target. She doubted he could hear her anyway. "I'm doing what I can to help you."

He groaned again softly. Within seconds his shivering turned violent as it transformed into a seizure. "No. Not now." Brennan whispered. She pulled over to the side of the road. By the time she got out and reached him at his passenger side door he'd stopped. Feebly he breathed out labored gasps. His shaking now was weak. Brennan dropped down onto one knee to bring herself to his level. "Booth? Booth, look at me!"

He didn't, of course. It was easy to see he was fading fast. The cold in combination with the cancer was truly killing him. Brennan choked back tears. She opened the back door. There scattered across the seat was their luggage. She prepared a morphine shot and injected him, hoping to relieve at least part of his problem. As she got back behind the wheel her own hands were shaking. She took off so fast the car's tires spun on the wet pavement. From then on the speed limit was forgotten about. As she wound her way through back country roads she was pushing the car as fast as it would go without losing control. "Hold on, Booth."

"I can't-" he murmured deliriously. Whether or not he was even responding to her or Amanda was in question.

"Yes, you can! You have to!"

Those were the last words he spoke to her. For the remainder of the ride he was caught in a state of unconsciousness. He didn't move a muscle. The only manner in which she knew he was still alive was the sound of his noisy breathing.

"How could you do this to him?" She muttered out loud. She wasn't quite sure who she was directing her thoughts to, since she didn't believe in a God. If there was one, why wasn't He doing anything to save her husband? Why hadn't He protected him in the first place? Why had He allowed him to suffer through so much pain and anguish?

She about cried for a second time when at long last she arrived in the busy streets of New York City. She stopped at the first hospital she came across. Forget finding Dr. Morris' office. Booth needed help. Now. She'd simply get the hospital to page the doctor. From there they could go over a plan of action.

Into the back of the ER bay she stopped her car. Paramedics were standing near the entrance with a stretcher waiting. "Help needed!" She called to them as she ran around the car. The men sprung into action. They immediately were at her side, unloading Booth and setting him onto the bed. He was as limp as a noodle, and completely oblivious.

"He's got cancer, and he's fighting off a cold." Brennan rambled anything that came to her mind. She followed behind as they hurried him inside the hospital. "He's on morphine for pain. There's doctors treating him and there's one we need to call. He needs help. He's dying." The last two words stole her breath away. "He's dying," she repeated again in a stunned shock to herself. She came to a complete stop in the hallway. It wasn't like she hadn't known. But hearing herself say the words out loud was something different. It made it feel all too much more real.

The men disappeared from sight pushing Booth into the emergency room. Brennan found the waiting area. She sat down in a chair. Her head fell into her hands that had finally stopped quivering. She'd done what she could. She'd gotten him help. Now she just had to trust in the medical staff over seeing his care. She had to trust in Booth himself. But knowing how weak he was made it difficult. She didn't blame him for being too tired to try. This battle had been going on for years. The end may have been in sight. But she dreaded the out come.

* * *

_Booth was back in that dark, tepid basement. His hands were tied behind his back. The pain he was in disabled him. His throat burned as though live fire was flickering through the tissue, with the smoke billowing out through his nose. He couldn't breathe, think, or move. In his mouth he could taste blood on his tongue. Lifelessly he looked up at the ceiling._

_Bright light burned in its suddenness in his eyes. He winced and turned away with tightly shut eyes. Above him he could hear the sound of a woman laughing. He let no emotion be shown when he felt a coldness in the crook of his arm, followed by the sting of a needle. Floating above him he could hear distant voices. Their words made no sense to him. _

"_Pupils are dilated. Temperature's one hundred and four. And I don't like how low his blood pressure is."_

"_His wife said he's on morphine for pain. She administered a shot."_

"_How long ago?"_

"_A few hours."_

"_All right. Well I want to get an IV drip going. Lets at least get him comfortable."_

_The woman who had been laughing was right next to his ear. "You hear that? They're talking about you."_

_Booth flipped onto his back to find himself face to face with Amanda. She got down on both of her knees besides him. "You're dying, just like I told you you would. You don't have a snowball's chance in Hell." Her hand crept over his hips. It reached for the fastener on his jeans._

"_There's heavy congestion in his chest."_

"_All right. I want x-rays. Lets see what we're dealing with here."_

_Amanda undid the button. She slid her hand up towards his navel, smiling deviously at his pained reaction. "You're all mine. You'll always be all mine." The hand smoothed back downwards. She started to shift his pants off his hips._

"_I hate you so much," he breathed._

"_What did you say?"_

_With every ounce of strength he had Booth twisted his hips away from her. In another quick movement he managed to pull his legs back and kick. His feet caught Amanda square in the chest. She was propelled onto her back. Booth used her momentary surprise to his advantage. Though his wrists were still bound he was able to get up onto his feet. "It ends here," he growled at her._

_

* * *

_

"Dr. Brennan?"

Brennan opened her eyes at the sound of her name. She hadn't realized she'd been sleeping until that moment. Her eyes first went to Booth. His face was turned to one side as he continued to sleep softly. A clear plastic oxygen mask covering both his nose and mouth kept humified air pumping into his lungs. It'd been twenty four hours since he'd been admitted. Only a few times during that period had he woken. Each time he had, it'd only proven to be heart crushing. Booth was gone. He didn't interact with her, or anyone, for that matter. Blankly, he just stared. His movements were jerky, and difficult for him to complete. In her heart she knew the brain tumors were finally beginning to disable him. Without getting the emergency care he so desperately needed she worried that within in a month she'd lose him entirely. She knew his doctors had similar concerns, especially now that it'd been determined that his compromised immune system was fighting a bout of pneumonia.

She turned now to find a short, red haired man standing in the doorway. He wore a white lab coat over his clothes. Seeing he had her attention he took a few more steps forward. "_Are you _Dr. Brennan?"

"Yes," she answered in a voice that hadn't been used in a day for any other purpose than to cry.

"I'm Dr. Morris." He extended his hand. Weakly she accepted the hand shake. "And this must be Agent Booth. I've been speaking to his doctors. What do you feel is going on with him?"

What did she feel was going on with him? The question angered her. Only she didn't have enough strength to carry the emotion. And so her words came out in a strong, uncharacteristic rant. "What's wrong with him? Two years ago he was abducted by a woman determined to get revenge for the death of her sister. She unfairly blamed Booth for her sister running a meth lab, and killing her when authorities tried to make an arrest. She tortured him, raped him, and beat him until he grew so despondent he drank household cleaner in an attempt to take his own life. A year ago he was rescued. But she'd inflicted so much abuse on him that I nearly lost him multiple times again to suicide attempts. He's been a victim of his mind, of hallucinations, which I thought was in part from post traumatic stress. He started having seizures, which again we chalked up to the numerous impacts to the head he'd received. We had no idea how sick he was. How sick she'd made him." She shook her head and took in a breath to keep her emotions still. "He's been through withdrawal, depression, seizures, suicide attempts, headaches, and now this. So pardon me, doctor, but unless you have good news I prefer to be alone with my husband."

Dr. Morris rubbed his chin. "You think she gave him cancer?"

"I don't know," Brennan sighed. "He does. She worked in a hospital so I suppose she had access to components of that nature."

The doctor nodded slowly. He pulled up a chair and sat down besides her. "I've spent the last few hours going over his medical history, including the most recent scans that have been performed. He's very sick."

His dazed stare popped into her memory. Not trusting her voice, she just nodded.

"I still believe I can help him. I'm certain I can remove these tumors."

Her eyes widened. "So do it!"

"We have to wait until the pneumonia has resolved itself."

Brennan was horrified. "He doesn't have time for that!"

"Dr. Brennan, I understand your concern. But if we were to attempt this surgery now there's almost a certainty that we'd lose him. We just have to be patient."

"We've been patient. He's only gotten sicker."

"I know. I'm just asking for a little more. I can't risk his life by attempting this surgery now. I just can't."

Brennan was dying to argue. But logically she knew he was right. She looked back upon Booth's sleeping face. _We'll save you, _she mentally promised him.


	53. The Turning Point

"_You really think you can take me?"_

"_I've been running from you and your abuse for long enough. It's time to stop."_

_Amanda grinned the evil smile of a jackal. "You're weak. You don't have the strength."_

"_Maybe." He agreed. "But I'll die fighting."_

"_Good." She closed in on him faster than he was prepared for. Her body collided into his. She pinned him back against the wall, his hands uncomfortably caught between himself and the surface. "Because die is what you're going to do."_

_He smiled before cracking his head into hers. She stumbled backwards. The blow had disoriented her. Booth frantically searched the room. He had to get his hands free. This fight was already mismatched. Without use of his most important appendages he was doomed. _

_Across the room he spotted a knife she'd used to torture him with sitting upon a card table. Since Amanda was still reeling on the floor he hurried towards it. He managed to fish it up into his hand. Carefully he maneuvered it so the blade slipped underneath the rough rope. He contorted his limbs until he was able to saw his way through. The knife fell from his grip before he was finished. But it had loosened the twine enough for him to pull his wrists through the remainder. A hot pain burned from the rope. He ignored it. Amanda had risen to her feet._

"_I'm impressed." She nodded approvingly. "Maybe I'll finally get a real fight out of you."_

"_Bring it." He retorted._

_She charged at him for a second time. Sexual abuse was the biggest power she'd always had over him. Now she once again used it to her advantage. He blocked her fist which she swung at him. She kicked her leg out while trying to hit him again. Her distraction was successful. He collapsed onto the ground onto his back from the kick. She dropped her body down onto his. Purposefully, she landed down on his hips. He jerked, then was rendered immobilized by pain and fear. "That's right," she snarled, pushing down on his chest. "You won't win."_

_

* * *

_

The next few days were some of the worst. They were harder on Brennan than anything they'd been through together. Booth's body didn't respond to the antibiotics. His fever surged higher and higher, and there was little anyone could do to stop it. She sat by his side around the clock waiting for him to succumb to his illness; for the inevitable end to come.

Only, it didn't.

She watched in wonder as he seemed to be fighting back against some sort of invisible entity. He'd wreath across his hospital bed, nearly tossing himself onto the floor. More than once Brennan had had to hold him steady. At first she had thought he'd been having more seizures, only of a lower grade. It made sense considering how sick he was. But when she really watched him she glimpsed an expression of intense anger on his face. It boggled her. Dr. Morris had showed her Booth's latest scans. The tumors were digging down into his brain tissue. That was why he'd slipped into a vegetative state. So how was it he was managing to dream? And move about?

At the worst of times she was ashamed to admit that she nearly wished he would move on. He'd suffered through so much. All she wanted for him was peace. Something better than this place he had been trapped in for so long.

Gently, she touched his sweaty face. Under his oxygen mask he began panting harder and harder. "Booth?"

* * *

"_I think I'll just take you right here. It's been a long time, hasn't it?" She rose enough off his body to finish playing with the zipper on his pants. "And should you live, then I can leave you with a nice present for your wife."_

_Booth shut his eyes tightly. He rallied himself to muster up some courage. "She can't hurt you," he promised himself out loud._

"_What was that? I beg to differ." She yanked on the fabric against his hip._

_Booth used his leg as a crank. He rolled, tumbling her off of him and onto the floor. Immediately he began pushing himself up. The trouble was, Amanda had recovered easily. She took him down yet again like a line backer. He let out a choked scream as the same knife he'd used to free himself plunged into his chest._

_

* * *

_

"Booth?" Brennan stood. "What's the matter?"

The monitor keeping track of his vitals came to life in a series of frenzied beeps. Brennan looked up to the screen. Booth's heart was beating out of control. His blood pressure was rising. His pulse quickened with every passing second. _This is it, _she thought to herself with tears already falling from her eyes. This wasn't at all the way she imagined it. But that didn't matter. She ran to the doorway of his room and hollered for help at the top of her lungs for help.

* * *

_Amanda pulled the knife out as she got up. Blood had already soaked his shirt. He lay, gasping and tasting the metalic liquid that was pooling from his body. She was growing faint in his eyesight. _

"_You're done." She threw the knife onto the floor._

_Booth squeezed his eyes shut against the pain._

_

* * *

_

Doctors hadn't arrived yet. Before her eyes Booth was crashing fast. Upon watching him she began to notice things she hadn't before. Booth's eyes weren't closed by his unconscious. He was scrunching them shut. _Like he's aware of his actions, and he's in pain. _Her suspicion grew when Booth lifted his hand and pawed at his chest. He tightened his fist in his hospital gown. He had to have been dreaming. And it was proving to be costly to his life.

She had to do something before it was too late. Tenderly she rested a cool hand on his forehead. "Booth, listen to me. Whatever's happening to you isn't real. You're in the hospital. You have pneumonia. You're safe here with me."

The monitor beeped again in panic. He was fading. She absolutely had to make this work. "Booth, please." She loosened his fist. Into her hand she slipped his and squeezed it. "Come on. Don't give up." Her tears fell faster when he didn't respond to her. "Please." She lowered her head and pressed her cheek against his. "_Please_, Booth. Don't leave me."

* * *

"_Come on. Don't give up."_

_Booth opened his eyes. That voice sounded so familiar. He stared up at the ceiling._

"_Please, Booth. Don't leave me."_

Bones. _He exhaled. _Bones, I'm so sorry. I can't fight anymore.

_Amanda laughed. "That's right. Draw it out. I'm enjoying this."_

_The phrase he told himself earlier came back to his mind. _She can't hurt you. _This couldn't be real, right? With a grunt he rolled over onto his stomach. On shaking arms he pushed himself up onto his knees. He looked to Amanda. The woman was shocked into stillness. "Don't count me out yet." He told her breathlessly. "I'm not finished."_

_

* * *

_

Brennan was so focused on Booth that she missed his turning point. She only snapped out of her trance when a doctor tapped her on the shoulder. The man appeared to be baffled. "He seems to be all right."

She looked to his monitor. All his vitals were declining back into normal, healthy levels. Brennan gasped in relief. "He was… he…"

The doctor was paged away. He excused himself before she could get out another word. And so she turned back to him. Against his forehead she pressed her lips. "I love you, Booth. Thank you."

From there he only began to improve.


	54. It Begins

A/N: Shameless self promotion! I'm trying to get more involved on my Twitter account and I would love to have more friends, especially Bones ones! So if any of you would like feel free to add me! Punky_Misfit

* * *

Two days passed before the fever broke. The delusions Booth had been experiencing from his sickness began to ease in their severity and frequency. Amanda still haunted him. She still berated him. But now in the back of his mind he was able to remind himself that she wasn't real. That was when he saw her at all.

Booth didn't know of what his doctors were calling "fade out" episodes. He had no idea when the pressure in his brain grew to be too much. Brennan could only watch helplessly as he'd lapse back into a vegetative state. His limbs would fall uselessly to his side. Sometimes he'd sleep, and when he woke he'd be fine once again. There was simply no rhyme or reason to any of it. That's what frightened her. As a woman who had based her life on logic she needed answers for his behavior. But those same answers were almost too much to ask for. She hadn't seen one of Booth's recent brain scans. By now she was too timid to ask. She wasn't sure she wanted to see.

It was a full week before Booth was declared completely free from the pneumonia. One afternoon Dr. Morris arrived to do his own brief exam. Booth slept on through all the poking and prodding. Brennan remained mum as she watched. Dr. Morris finished up and at last spoke to her. "There's still fluid in his lungs. But with the tumor there affecting the tissue it's not likely that's going to go away any time soon." He pulled his stethoscope away. "So, we need to have a talk." He pulled out a chair away from the wall and sat down.

"What about?" Brennan was clueless. Booth was better. What else was there to discuss? It was time to move forward.

"Whether or not you still want to proceed with the surgery."

Brennan gaped. "Still want to do it? Why wouldn't we? Don't you still believe in your ability? Do you no longer think you can help him?"

"No. That's not it. I can remove these tumors no problem. But the fluid build up is a most definite complication. It could cause problems during the surgery by affecting his breathing."

She looked over to Booth. He slept on, pale as could be with a nostril tube giving him easy access to oxygen. He could breathe, but not as strongly on his own. "He doesn't have a choice. He's losing his mind. Literally." She turned her attention back to Dr. Morris. "The tumors are interfering with his brain functions."

"I know. I just want you to be aware of the dangers."

"We've known of the hazards all along. This needs to be done." She dropped her voice. "I know him better than your tests. I can tell you, he doesn't have long."

"I just don't want to decrease that time by rushing in."

"I'm dying anyway." A weak, slurred voice startled them. Neither of them had thought Booth was conscious. "Lets just do the damn thing."

"Okay." Dr. Morris stood. If the patient wanted it then he had no choice but to proceed. "I'll go put in the necessary requests for surgery. Hang tight. I'll be back sometime later with news." He left the couple alone.

"Booth." Brennan took his hand. He opened his eyes as much as he could and looked at her. He wasn't bothering to hide it anymore. The pain was evident in his stare. Worriedly she pressed her hand to his cheek. His face dropped into her touch. All of a sudden she was second guessing herself. "Maybe we _should _wait. Maybe we should try to solve your lung issues before trying to deal with your brain."

"I'll be… I'll be…" He couldn't force the words out. They were stuck on his tongue, too difficult to form. From a bed side tray he picked up the pad of paper. After Booth had begun having trouble speaking Brennan had kept both that and a pen by his side. Writing, thankfully, he had no problems with. It was a last line of communication.

He jotted down words. _I'll be dead before then._

"Don't say that!" She cried. "You don't know that!" In her heart, though, she did. The way his health was waning she knew he wasn't going to be able to withstand much more.

_This is the only way I know how to save myself._

"What if something goes wrong?"

_What if everything goes right?_

She exhaled. "Okay. You win."

He smiled as much as he was able to. _I'll get through this. I've survived so far._

"Barely."

His expression darkened. He dropped the pen. She instantly regretted her words. "I'm sorry, Booth. I didn't mean that. I'm just," she inhaled deeply. After all this time and even through marriage it was hard to openly reveal her feelings. Especially ones that could potentially affect his frame of mind. "I'm just scared for you."

He lifted the pen back up. _I'll make it, Bones. _His eyes were closing. She could see how exhausted he was. "Just rest." She ordered softly. He nodded, already almost asleep. She stroked his cheek with her thumb. "Booth, you have to be okay." She whispered.

Just as she was getting ready to leave Dr. Morris joined her again. "Surgery is set for seven thirty Wednesday morning."

"Wednesday?" Her breath caught. _Day after tomorrow? _"Isn't that soon?"

"You said it yourself, Dr. Brennan. He's declining."

"I know." She sighed. "I just want to be sure he's strong enough."

"I'll take good care of him. I've lost few patients in my career." The doctor turned to leave. "I don't anticipate him becoming one of those statistics."

"This is it." She told Booth.

* * *

The following morning Booth was informed of the surgery. However, whether he really comprehended what was happening to him was undecided. All around he was having a bad day. He slipped in and out of episodes. When he came back he was angry. He didn't talk to Brennan. But she could tell it in his mannerisms. In his hardened glare at anyone who tried to interact with him. After he gave a nurse a hard time Brennan had had enough. "Booth!" She scolded as the nurse left. "What is wrong with you?" Then it occurred to her. "You're scared," she accused.

He dropped his eyes down onto the blanket covering his body. When he looked up she could see in his guilty stare that she was one hundred percent correct. Her own irritation lessened. "Booth."

He laid back against his pillows. Again his eyes were threatening sleep. She daringly laid herself down next to him in the small space he didn't occupy. Immediately he scooted over to give her more room. Then he rolled onto his stomach. He laid his head down on her shoulder. His arm wrapped around her stomach and held onto her. Brennan responded by rubbing a hand lightly over the muscles in his back. Underneath her touch they relaxed.

"You're safe, Booth." She hummed in his ear. "Everything will be fine. You're going to be fine. And then you and I can really start our family." She smiled. Yet she smiled even harder when she felt his fingertips tighten on her hip. "By tomorrow night this will all be over," she whispered. She just wasn't sure who she was saying it to. The sound of his slow breathing was hypnotic. Pretty soon she too began to fall into a deep sleep. Having him there in her arms made her worry less about him than she had in quite some time.

Surprisingly, nobody woke her. Not until a nurse came to prep him for surgery the following morning. Ashamedly Brennan crawled out of bed. She straightened her clothes, and attempted to fix the mess her hair had become. A flush rose to her cheeks. The nurse readying Booth for transport smiled sympathetically at her. She finished her duty and bustled out.

Brennan seized on Booth in her abscence. "Booth?" She took a hold of his hand. He remained motionless, just as he had while the nurse had been tending to him. "Booth?"

His eyes opened slightly. But they were expressionless. Glazed. The pressure had pushed his personality out again. "No," she croaked. She needed to talk to him before he went in. She needed to hear his voice. "Come back," she begged him softly.

He made a grunting noise. His eyes closed, and it was as if someone had pushed a switch. Booth himself looked at her. He breathed unevenly. He turned sheer white from pain. All this time Brennan, as well as his doctors, had been sure in those times he had "faded out" it'd been involuntary. Now seeing what he'd done she couldn't help but to think he'd been putting himself in that place to get away for a while.

"Hi," she rasped through a tightening throat.

He could only barely nod. Already she was beginning to lose him. His eyelids were shutting. She needed to say what she needed to say. Fast. "I love you. I'll be here waiting when you wake up. And you will," she assured him. "I know you will, Booth." She repeated her love for him a second time before she kissed him. For a moment he kissed her back. Then with her lips still pressed against his she felt him faint.

Two men from Transportation Services arrived to take him to surgery just then. She gave his hand one more affectionate squeeze before allowing him to be taken. Until he was gone from the room she stood and watched. Then she gathered up her things. The wait was on.


	55. Keep Holding On

_Booth was sitting on the floor. The room around him was completely white. It was void of any detail. No carpeting. No grass. No dirt. It lacked furniture. Hell, it even was missing a sky. It was just nothingness all around. He knew he should have been afraid. Or concerned. But instead all Booth felt was a calm peace. He sat up with his legs crossed like a butterfly in front of him. His arms were stretched out, touching the whiteness below him. And there he continued to wait._

_He wondered what was going on. Somewhere in his mind he knew this was all a dream. But why was he having such a strange one? Why wasn't he more concerned about it? Had his physical body given up? Was he on his way to heaven? Was this what dying felt like? His heart had stopped before. He knew it. But he didn't remember it. So he was clueless as to what this white nothingness was. _

_But heaven was… heaven. Not nothing. _I did do questionable things, _he thought grimly. _Maybe I'm in purgatory. Maybe all the lives I saved meant nothing. I still took lives. _He looked around. _I guess I just wait. _He froze when he heard a familiar cackle. _Or maybe this is hell.

_The sound of heels clicking echoed. Amanda appeared from thin air. She walked over to him with a smug expression. Booth gave no reaction. He stared up at her once she got close enough. She stood over him with her fists planted firmly on her hips. Neither one of them said anything. They just traded unflinching glances, like they were silently daring the other one to look away first. "You know why you're here?" She asked._

_He didn't indulge her question. _

"_You're dying."_

"_I don't believe you." He was quick to argue._

"_It doesn't matter. You're in between heaven and hell."_

"_Then I must be going to hell. You definitely aren't my angel."_

_Her lips curved into a smile. "You're right. I'm not." She snapped her fingers. The air above them began to darken with black storm clouds. Lightning stuck the ground. Fire rapidly spread across the area behind her. She folded her arms across her chest. "I'm your grim reaper." She laughed again._

_Booth climbed to his feet. He backed away from her. Already he could feel heat from the flames on his face, even from the distance he'd put away. On his next step back the ground fell out from underneath him. Down he fell until he landed into a black sea. His body collided with the cold liquid and he crashed under. While sinking his feet brushed upon slimey rocks. Boulders. He was able to use them for momentum. With a rough push he sprung himself back up out of the water. The storm increased in it's severity. Black rain fell from above. Fierce winds rocked the already turbulent waters. Waves rose above Booth's head. He was slammed down back under water. Balance lost, he fell sideways onto the same stones that had just helped him. His ribs immediately ached in protest. But he wasn't about to let that stop him. _

_He swam as hard as he could back up to the surface. There he was able to get one lungful of oxygen before he was pulled back under. _No! _The water was mighty. Repeatedly he was driven down. Drowned. It was taking all Booth's strength to fight the current and stay near the top. And it was showing. The lack of air was making him dizzy. His eyes were pulling closed. _I've gotta breathe! _He made one last attempt to breathe. And at last he was successful. His head broke through. Gratefully he breathed as deeply and as quickly as he could. _

_A loud clap of thunder shook the world. The ground trembled. The sea rocketed back and forth. Waves grew to be bigger than the previous ones. Booth had no time to react before a towering wave dropped down on top of his head. The force knocked him head first back against the same protruding rocks. His eyes closed as he lost consciousness._

_

* * *

_

Brennan paced the length of the waiting room. She usually wasn't the sort of person who paced. Booth was. But she was alone. All the other families who had been waiting with her had received news on their loved ones and left to be with them. Which was why she was worried. Booth's surgery was scheduled to have ended a hour ago. _Maybe it doesn't mean anything, _she tried to tell herself. _They could have been delayed starting. _Abruptly she stopped, nodding to herself. That had to be the only explanation. _An hour isn't too much time. He's fine. They didn't start his procedure on time. Or they're taking extra time watching him in Recovery to be sure all is well with him. _Yes. That was the answer. Dr. Morris was a top ranked best surgeon, after all. He'd promised her nothing would go wrong. She'd put faith in that promise.

But after another hour passed without word she was running low on hope, while her nerves were running high. Where was he? What was going on? Why hadn't anyone been to talk to her? Her fear was resulting in irritation. Anger. Once Dr. Morris appeared she'd be giving him an earful! How could he stand to just let her wait like this?

Finally the door opened. Brennan, who had sat down again, sprung up to her feet. "What took you so long?" She snapped at him.

Dr. Morris appeared resigned. "I'm sorry. I-"

"When can I see him? It's two hours beyond your projected estimate of surgery time. Were you waiting for him to be completely coherent? Is he in a room?"

"Dr. Brennan, I-"

"And what happened-"

"Dr. Brennan!" Dr. Morris talked over her. "His surgery was a success. The tumors were removed from his brain without any issues."

"Well, yes, I expected that." She didn't understand. But her heart fell as he continued to talk.

"But there were still complications. That fluid in his lungs I was worried about-"

"He can't breathe," she predicted in a deadened voice.

"He's having great difficultly." Dr. Morris confirmed with a nod. "His blood pressure has also become dangerously low."

"So do something. Why didn't you just take the rest of the tumors out while he was under?"

"He wasn't strong enough. We would have lost him for sure."

Brennan sank back down into her chair. She felt like she'd suddenly aged ten years. "So what are you doing for him?"

"We have him on life support."

"Can I see him?"

"I don't think-"

She knew what he was going to say. "No" was not an acceptable answer. "I _need _to see him." She stood and pushed her way past him. No one was telling her no. She wouldn't be separated from Booth again. He needed her. And really, she needed him. Dr. Morris was on her heels full of explanations and rebuttals that she wasn't willing to hear. "Take me to him." She ordered.

Seeing he wouldn't get any further with her, he surrendered to her demands. He led the way to the ICU. They walked in silence. Dr. Morris pulled ahead of her once they were inside the unit. Outside a room he stopped. "He's in there."

Since there was no door Brennan easily stalked right in. She didn't let herself look up from the floor as she went straight to his bedside. When at last she did the sight of him stole her breath away.

At first all she saw was the thick layer of gauze wrapped repeatedly around his head. A black bruise running the length of his forehead zig zagged out from underneath the bandage. Brennan swallowed. She made herself take a step back and survey the over all damage.

Booth was only breathing normally because a machine was forcing air into him. A mask was strapped over his nose and mouth. She could hear the wheezing sound his lungs made when he exhaled. His over all skin tone had taken on a bluish gray. Since being determined to survive she hadn't seen him look so weak. The worst was over. But he was still hanging in balance. She took a gentle hold of his hand. His skin was cool to the touch. "Booth," she whispered.

He fought the respirator and gasped. A tremor ran through him.

"No, don't." She cautioned him. "I know you can hear me." He'd just confirmed it. "I need you to fight against this. I need you to be you." She squeezed his hand. "Be stubborn. Be everything you are. You've made it so far. And you're almost done. Just," she touched her hand to his cheek. "Just hold on a little longer."

She could have sworn she felt him lean into her. Reassure her. Like always.


	56. Back To The Future

Days passed by with Booth remaining in limbo. Every day Brennan patiently waited by his side for a sign. A miracle. A blessing that wasn't coming. The life support was his only link to the world. The hoarse sound in his lungs grew worse as the days went on. It was obvious Booth was floundering from the fluid build up in his lungs. Scans post surgery showed that though his brain was healing, the tumor on his lung was worsening. It was growing bigger in dimension. The bluish tint his lips and fingertips had taken on was more evidence.

Yet, Dr. Morris seemed hesitant to proceed with any treatment. He remained vague whenever Brennan questioned him. She found herself becoming both flustered and edgy. Booth was fading every day. He didn't have the time or strength to have a doctor who skirted around his problems. So why wasn't anything being done? Why was the doctor who had been so confident suddenly backing off?

For the moment she let it go. Over Booth she continued her vigil. She never left his side, except when absolutely necessary. She held onto his hand, at times sure he knew she was there. His hand would twitch, or otherwise apply pressure, and she'd know. Others, it felt like she was looking at a shell of a man. Seeing him motionless and hearing his desperate attempts at breathing made her feel like he was already gone. In those times she allowed herself to cry. It wasn't defeat or mourning. It was expressing what he wasn't able to.

He woke late one evening just as Brennan was readying to leave. Leaving him at night was always the hardest. One of her fears was Booth waking up to find he was alone. After all he'd been through he didn't deserve to think he'd been abandoned. She tried to reassure herself by insisting he would never conclude that. But then again, given what had been done to his brain, who knew what he would be thinking? Anything was possible. Which was exactly what she learned.

A nurse informed her kindly that visiting hours had ended. Brennan always tried to stretch time, to stay until she was flat out booted from his room. Down trodden, she stood and turned around to put on her coat. When she looked back his eyes were fluttering open. Her heart near hit the floor in both relief and anticipation. "Booth?"

The first thing she noticed was how dull his eyes were. They didn't sparkle with familiarity. He took in everything around him, his eyes flickering to and fro. She could see how confused he was. And yet when they turned to her that emotion didn't ease.

"It's all right, Booth. You're awake. You had surgery. Do you remember?" She squeezed his arm.

She was shocked when he winced at her sign of affection. "Do you remember me?" She tried. "It's Brennan, Booth. Dr. Temperance Brennan. We're married." It crushed her heart to see he had no idea what she was talking about. "Bones?" She offered. No result. She continued like he understood, hoping that perhaps if she treated him as normal it would start to come back. "You had extensive surgery on your brain. You had three tumors. Dr. Morris was able to remove them. But there's another tumor pressing into your airway. That's why you're having difficulty breathing."

He didn't recognize anything she was saying. In fact, he seemed panicked. She struggled to make him understand. To at least trust her, which clearly, he did not. "Booth, it's me. Please." She shook her head. "We've been partners for years. We got married in a theme chapel in Las Vegas. I'm pregnant. We have a baby on the way." She struggled for a smile. "Booth," she tried again, bestowing another sign of affection.

He froze underneath her touch. Tightly his eyes scrunched closed, as though she were wounding him. Brennan felt like someone had rewound time. He was acting just as he had when he'd first been rescued. This was the final straw. Wordlessly she withdrew from his side. Her footsteps were angry as she stalked from his room.

The nurses' station was mere steps away. She stomped up. "I want to see Dr. Morris."

"He's in-"

"NOW." She commanded darkly.

"He's taking a-"

_Break. _She walked past the desk and straight to where she knew the doctor's lounge was. She burst inside. Thankfully Dr. Morris was the only doctor there. He sat at a table with a donut and a cup of coffee. His mouth paused over the donut in surprise over her dramatic entrance. Time stopped.

"He's awake." She started. "And he's not himself. He's delirious. He has amnesia…" A tear slipped down her cheek. "He doesn't know me. He doesn't even know who he is!"

"I know. That's fairly common after brain surgery. The symptoms will ease-"

"I thought this was supposed to help him."

"The tumors removed-"

"He's uncomfortable when I touch him! Do you have any idea how many months it took for him to get over that?" She seethed.

"I know you're upset."

"Do something for him!" Brennan demanded. "I know he's still sick, but he needs help."

"Yes. Now that he's awake we can perform some more tests to see where he's at as far as-"

"More tests? For what? I can read those tests just as adeptly as you can. And better yet, I know him! I can tell you he's crashing without any scans or tests!"

"I know you can, Dr. Brennan," Dr. Morris said in a soothing voice. "There just isn't much we can do at the moment."

"No!" She cried at him. He simply wasn't understanding her. "He's suffering. You have to do something!"

Dr. Morris exhaled. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "We could try aspirating his lungs with a needle. It'd buy us some time."

"Then do that." She sniffed. "You need to just go in and remove the remaining tumors. Why are you making him wait?"

"Because I don't know if he'd survive the surgery. The brain surgery took a lot more out of him than I anticipated."

Brennan was shaking her head. "He's done everything we've asked him to. He's fought when he's been exhausted and he hasn't given up. He needs help, and we need to be the ones to fight for him now. So go in and take them out."

"And what if he doesn't survive?" Dr. Morris wondered in a soft voice.

Brennan shut her eyes against the incapacitating pain she felt at the thought. "Then at least I'll know he isn't hurting anymore," she managed to get out. She turned away, intent on those being her last words.

"Dr. Brennan, on that note, there's something you need to know."

She stopped dead. With her back still to him, she asked, "what is it?"

"Even when all the tumors are cleared out he won't be safe yet. The cancer hasn't gone into remission. My prediction is that whatever this Amanda put into him will continue to cause tumors."

"So he'll never completely be cured," she realized out loud in a voice just above a whisper.

"I'm afraid so. Chances are he'll never leave this hospital."

She whirled back around with a new intensity in her eyes. "Then I want a sample of his blood sent to the lab at the Jeffersonian Institute."

"I'm sorry?"

"I've trusted doctor after doctor with his care. It's time I have someone else look into it. It's time I trust my own people with him." This time she managed to leave before the doctor could get another word in. The door to the lounge slammed shut behind her.

Straight back to Booth she went. Sensing she'd have little time before she was asked to leave again, she spoke to him quickly. "Booth, I know you don't understand right now, but I need you to trust me. You're possibly going to have another surgery. At the very least we're going to drain your lungs so you can breathe easier. Then, we're going home. And there we're going to put an end to this cancer once and for all." Her frustration had drawn out a new determination. Booth would survive. She refused to give up.


	57. Back Home At Last

The next few days were filled with nothing but confusion. Booth did everything in his power not to interact with Brennan. Any sort of affection she tried to show him was met with reluctance. He shuddered at her touch. In his rattled mind she was Amanda, set out to finish the job she'd started. Brennan took it personally at first with a heavy heart. But then she saw how he reacted to other medical personnel who happened to be women. As it turned out _all _women were Amanda to him.

After his brain began to right itself he still wasn't the same person he'd been. He was despondent. He stopped eating. Had it not been for IV fluids he had been poised to become very ill. And though he could talk he did not do so. Both his nurses and Dr. Morris grew frustrated over his lack of communication. No one knew precisely what to do for him since he wasn't speaking up about his needs.

In order to help with his breathing problems a thoracentesis was performed. Brennan sat with Booth while he was given a local anesthetic. He winced when a needle was pushed through the skin in his back. His shoulders trembled.

"It's okay," she comforted him, squeezing his hand. He offered no reaction. She felt like he didn't realize he wasn't alone. But that didn't stop her. All throughout the procedure she talked to him. In the end it was successful. He had a much easier time breathing, and didn't require a respirator anymore. But Brennan could see clearly in his expression that things still weren't right with him. It was time to go home.

"I'm signing him out." She announced to Dr. Morris the following day. "Get me the paperwork to sign."

Dr. Morris was expecting this, of course. "You will be at least keeping up with hospital out patient care, right?"

"Yes. I just can see he's emotionally not responding to your care. And I appreciate beyond words everything you've done, but his psychological health is just as important to me as his physical. He needs what's familiar to him now."

"I can understand that. I sent a sample of his blood and medical reports to your lab as requested. Just," Dr. Morris sighed. "Be aware that the thoracentesis was a temporary solution to an ongoing problem. The fluids are going to most likely build up once again."

"I know. I just hope to have a cure for him before that happens."

Dr. Morris offered her his hand. "Good luck to you. Really."

She shook it. "Thank you. I will be in touch."

From there she went straight back to Booth's room. He was awake. The television was on but she could clearly see it didn't have his attention. His eyes were glazed as his stare was aimed elsewhere. Even her arrival didn't seem to pique his interest.

"Booth?" She knelt over him. His eyes snapped back to hers. Nothing was said as he waited for her to continue. "We're going home. For good." She promised him.

He was unmoved.

"No more traveling. I had your blood and tissue samples sent over to the Jeffersonian. We're going to work on a cure for you, to get rid of this cancer once and for all." Brennan was absolutely determined to save his life. Booth's apathy however, was worrying her. Scaring her, even. "Booth, say something."

"Okay." He whispered.

Not long after he was discharged. He settled himself down in the front seat of Brennan's car and closed his eyes. She pulled a blanket she'd bought at the gift shop out of a paper shopping bag. Over his body she draped it before belting him in and shutting the door.

The drive was silent. Booth slept on and off. He appeared healthier than he had in a long time. But she knew appearances were deceiving. Any time the car hit a bump she could see him wince in pain. His breaths still had a certain twinge of labor in them. She switched her gaze from him out to the full moon lighting up the night sky. It guided their path home. If she believed in the sort of thing she would have taken it as a sign.

It was closing in on the early morning hours by the time they arrived back at Brennan's apartment. Booth woke with little difficulty. She supported him inside straight to her bedroom. He laid down in her bed. Before she could cover him up once again he was already back asleep. She smoothed the fabric over him anyway before sitting down besides him. With a sigh she ran a hand over the muscles in his back. At least there was no tumor protruding from his skin. Too bad she couldn't say the same about the rest of him.

She wouldn't be able to sleep. This she already knew. But she couldn't stand laying around doing nothing, either. She was dying to go to work. However, did she dare leave Booth alone? _He's likely to stay sleeping. _She reminded herself. _It's really all he's done in days. _Her mind was made up. For a few hours he would be fine without her. She scribbled him a note and left it on the table by his side just in case.

She left, driving straight to the Jeffersonian. Seeing the building put a pang of happiness in her heart. It'd been so long since she'd been to work. It didn't even matter that no one would currently be there. Just being inside would be enough as it was. She parked her car in the garage and went inside.

Down in the lab only security lights had been left on. After spending so many nights working alone on remains over the years her feeling of nostalgia only grew. It was easy to pretend that she was there working on a murder victim, digging for clues no one else seemed to be able to find. Even easier was it for her to pretend that Booth was home alone in bed sleeping peaceful and safe and waiting for whatever conclusions she drew to change their case.

Into her office she went first. Her desk was covered with papers: messages, lab results, and reports faxed from the hospital. On top of them all was over sized brown envelope. Brennan opened that first. Inside were all of Booth's x-rays. She took them out and laid them out on her floor according to the time in which they'd been taken. Hours were spent as she looked them over one by one. Every picture showed a man getting sicker and sicker with time. They told her how every step forward had been three steps backwards.

From there she moved onto his lab reports. Blood work. A startling reoccurrence stood out like a red flag. Brennan had never looked all that closely into the data being complied about her husband. She'd been caught up in the moments, too worried _abou_t him than to really worry what was happening _to _him. The type of cancer eating at him was some sort of designer smart virus. From what she could tell the virus only continued to grow from attempts at eradicating it. In fact, it strengthened.

She read report after report from one frustrated doctor to another. Conclusions were all the same. They could battle it, but until the source of the cancer was located and removed, Booth would continue to die. Her fingers gripped the papers so hard she wrinkled them. Why had no one told them? "It doesn't matter." She told herself. "Focus on helping him now."

Some point during the night she fell asleep. In the morning she was woken by someone shaking her shoulder. She was face down, sprawled out with her face hiding in the crook of her arm. She lifted it away to look up. Angela was looking down on her worriedly. "Sweetie? Are you okay?"

"Of course. Why?"

"Because it's eight in the morning and you're sleeping on the floor in your office surrounded by x-rays."

"Booth!" She jerked upright. "I have to go. I left him. I have to go-" She scrambled to her feet.

"It's okay. He called here looking for you. He's all right."

Brennan's heart slowed. "You talked to him? What did you tell him?"

"That you were fine. Just busy." She cocked an eyebrow. "You _are _fine, right?"

"How'd he sound?"

"Strange. Very blank. Monotone, even."

Brennan burst into tears. Angela was shocked. She helped her best friend up onto her couch. "Bren? What is it?"

"I spent the night here reading." She waved her hand over the room. "All these reports say the same thing. Unless we can cure Booth he's going to die. Eventually our lame attempts at trying to at least hold back the virus from spreading won't be successful. I fear they already aren't." She told her of the way he had changed following his surgery. "It's like he's just given up."

"He's tired." Angela argued. "You both are."

"But Ange if he's stopped trying-"

"He wouldn't. Not ever."

"But if the cancer got into his mind once… if it… if his behavior has changed…" Brennan wasn't even sure she was still making sense.

"Don't think like that. You know the truth now. And we're all on this. We'll get him cured, sweetie. You know we will."

"If anyone can do it, we can," she agreed with a smile in a shaky voice.

"It just may take a little time."

"He doesn't have it." She feared how much time they had left.

Angela wasn't sure what to say to that. They'd been thinking and planning along those lines all along, and Booth had over come every obstacle. "You should go home," she told her.

"I plan to. I have to go home and bring him back. I can't leave him alone for more than a few hours at a time." Brennan stood up. "And we need to get started. I think we should perform some more x-rays to have a complete update on the status of-"

"I think you should stay home."

Brennan recoiled. She wrinkled her nose. Was Angela crazy? "Why would I stay home?"

"We have everything we need to get started. Hodgins already has. You and Booth _just _got back. Stay home today. Take care of him. Sweetie," she rose to her feet as well. "Be his _wife_, today. I think he needs that more right now."

"What does that even mean?"

"It means take care of his heart. Leave the physical to us."

"But the heart is-"

Glare.

"Metaphorically. Right."


	58. Being A Wife

Author's Note: Be advised, sexual situation ahead!

* * *

Brennan raced from the Jeffersonian back home. Her heart pounded to the beat of her thoughts the entire way. _Booth. Booth. Booth. _Why had she left him alone? Then again she'd never intended on falling asleep in her office. For only a few hours she had planned on being there. "Damn it," she sighed out loud to the steering wheel.

She parked and rushed her way inside. The door nearly broke from the hinges from the brutal way she pushed her way in. And inside… everything was just as it should be. Booth was asleep on the couch. A cartoon show blared on the television. The air smelled of pancakes. She followed her nose to the stove. There sitting in a pan was a stack of pancakes waiting for her. Pancakes Booth had obviously made for her. She looked to him. Even being as sick as he was he still took the time to make sure she ate.

While she consumed her breakfast she racked her brain trying to think of something to do for him. _Be a wife, _Angela had urged. She took that to mean Booth needed comfort. Encouragement. Perhaps even sensuality. Well, she was certainly capable of that. Once she finished she put her dishes in the sink. Later she could wash them. Now she stepped over to Booth and watched him sleep. Her eyes ran over every inch of him. His expression was anything but relaxed. His muscles were tight. He was too thin, though it was hard to tell since he'd kept his muscular definition this time. Suddenly she knew what to do.

In her bathroom she ran a long, warm bath. The water filled with lavender scented soapy bubbles once she added the solution. She turned the lights off, and lit candles. When she was satisfied she returned to Booth. Gently she put her hands on him. Then she bowed her head and woke him with a kiss.

His eyes opened. "Hi."

"Hi."

"You're home. I left you breakfast on the stove."

"I saw. I had it. Thank you. Did you eat?"

"No." He shook his head and closed his eyes again. She could tell he had every intention of going back to sleep. Well, she'd be putting a stop to that. Again she embraced him. "Get up."

"What?"

"Come on." Tenderly she tugged on him. Unwillingly did he follow. "Where are we going? Bones, I'm really not in the mood."

This time she used her whole body to silence him. "Just trust me." Hand in hand she led him into the bathroom. He stopped in the threshold, blown away. "Bones, I don't… I don't know what to say."

"Then don't. No words are required." She pressed her lips against his. Her tongue flitted across his lips. He opened his mouth, giving her permission to taste him. From off of his shoulders she peeled his shirt off. Down onto the floor she carelessly threw it. In the cool air he shivered, telling her she needed to move faster.

Down his chest and stomach she had her mouth on him. At the top of his pajama bottoms she only stopped to pull the waistband down over his hips and legs, leaving him in his boxers. He was becoming obvious in his nervousness. The vulnerable side of him, something she hardly ever glimpsed, was one she took into appreciation. "It's just me," she reminded him in a whisper. "I wouldn't hurt you. You know that."

"I don't know what you're doing," he admitted.

"But you trust me."

"I trust you."

"Then leave it to me," she said matter of factly. She rose back up to his height. "Remember me." Slowly and carefully she pulled his boxers off. He shuddered again. Hard. Brennan said nothing. She backed him up into the bathtub and sat him down in the bubbles. He exhaled, then looked at her. "What is this?"

"I want you to relax."

"Men don't take baths with bubbles. I'm going to smell like a woman."

"You've smelled worse." She reminded him. He scowled at her. Softly she laughed. Then she got to work. In the water she swirled around a wash cloth. Over his clenched muscles she rubbed the warm rag. She was steadfast in avoiding the various lumps pressed up underneath his skin, especially the one on his chest. She spilled water down his back. And while at first he remained rigid, gradually he began to loosen up. He even let out a few moans of pleasure. "You're… amazing."

"I know." She said proudly.

He leaned against the back of the tub. His eyes closed. She could see him whole heartedly let himself go to her. The trust between them was back completely. It was a beautiful moment. One that made her ecstatic. Despite it all she still had it in her to drive him wild. To get him out of his own mind, even if it was just for a little while.

"I needed this," he broke the silence.

"I know."

"I hurt all the time, Bones." He dared to let himself look at her. "It's not just my head, or my chest. It's all of me. And I'm so tired. I'm always tired."

"We're working on it." She promised him. "We'll get you cured, Booth. I have faith in my team. And I have faith in you."

He was touched. "Come in here with me."

"There's not room for both of us."

"Then let me come out." He pushed himself up out of the tub. Over the side he stepped over and wrapped himself in a towel. Then he continued where she had left off. It was his turn now to flirt and tease her with his mouth. They ended up in a heap in the bedroom. Booth pushed her back onto the edge of her bed. She separated her legs before tugging him forward on top of her. His hands worked frantically at the buttons on her shirt. All the while he never broke the hungry kisses they shared. She nipped at his bottom lip. He was able to free her from her clothing constraint. All over her body his hands explored territory he already knew so well. Still, every time with her was like the first time.

Brennan let herself get caught up in the rush of adrenaline and endorphins. From her hips he removed her pants. Then he dropped down low, hitting her hot spot with his mouth. She moaned and writhed. But when he straightened and removed his towel she knew they needed to stop. "Booth," she panted. "Wait."

"What?"

"Can you… I mean… won't you… won't it hurt you?"

"I need to do this," was all he said. It was all he needed to say. She allowed him access. And when he pushed himself inside she wasn't the least bit sorry.

* * *

Hours later he slept peacefully in her arms. Her body was still humming from their love interaction. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so satisfied. They both needed this, she realized. Again she was glad she let him convince her. But now, now she dreaded the toll it had taken on him. Lovingly she ran her hand over the bandage still covering his head. She knew he was ashamed of it. Self conscious. But she found herself liking it. It was evidence of a life saved. A life still in progress.

"I'm going to make sure you stay in progress," she told him in a quiet tone, her voice barely registering. "You're counting on me, and I won't let you down. I never have. And I don't intend to start now." With those words she drifted off to sleep with him.

* * *

"No, Bones. Absolutely not."

"You have to."

"No, I don't. I'm not going."

"I can't leave you here for hours by yourself."

"I'm not some kid who needs to be baby sat!"

Booth stood in the doorway to the bedroom with his arms crossed firmly across his chest. It was first thing in the morning. She'd woken before him and begun preparing for the day. Namely work. When he'd come to she'd informed him that he'd be joining her at the Jeffersonian. Needless to say, he was less than thrilled.

"What if something happens?"

"Then it does!"

"I won't be able to concentrate with you here alone." She closed in the space between them. "Why don't you want to go?"

He wouldn't look at her when he spoke. "I don't want them seeing me like this. And they don't need to."

Wordlessly she went to the door. She plucked a Flyers baseball cap he had left long ago at her apartment. She planted it over his head, being careful of the bandage. He cracked a small smile. "That doesn't solve everything."

"I'm sorry, but you have to come."

He was defeated, and he knew it. He just didn't have the strength to continue to argue. And so he unhappily dressed.

"Thank you," she said sincerely when he presented himself to her.

"Lets just get this over with."


	59. Getting Back To Business

The next few weeks seemed to fly by. Brennan threw herself completely into her work. Every day she brought Booth to the lab with her. After the first day the awkwardness he had been feeling seemed to wear off. All of his Squints had welcomed him back with loving arms. No one commented about the hat, or his most obvious reason for wearing it. They were just thrilled to see him.

That night after work they were thrown a party for coming home, getting married, and getting pregnant. It was as Angela had remarked to Brennan, "you had a pretty big adventure while you were gone."

Booth didn't enjoy the limelight. But he allowed those around him to bask him in it anyway. He kept up with them for as long as he could before it was evident he was tiring himself out. Brennan then took him home. She laid him down in their bed. He was asleep instantly. She herself needed time to unwind. After a hot shower she sat herself down at her lap top. Hours passed by while she surfed the internet in an attempt to gather as much data regarding what she knew about Booth's disease. She even did a search on Amanda herself, probing into her history.

"Bones," Booth moaned in the early morning hours. He stood behind the chair where she sat in the kitchen. His voice surprised her. She jumped. "What are you doing up?"

"Come to bed," he whispered, kissing the back of her neck.

She surrendered, powering off the computer and following him into the bedroom.

Surprisingly in those few weeks Booth and Brennan's roles were reverted. It was Booth taking care of Brennan. Making sure she ate. Making her doctor's appointments. Being sure she made it _to _those doctor's appointments. During one of their visits an ultrasound was done. The mysterious black and white photo that really didn't show much of anything at all was presented to them. Brennan grinned from ear to ear. "Look, Booth."

He was silent. But she saw something shift in his eyes. Something changed for the better. There was a new light shining through. Brennan just hoped he harnessed that emotion, that he held onto it whenever he was feeling low. Though he seemed to be keeping himself too busy for that.

Following that visit Brennan gently suggested he see Parker. Booth was quick to shoot her idea down. "No."

"Why not? You haven't seen him in months."

"I talk to him on the phone every day."

"Talking isn't the same as seeing, Booth."

He'd looked away from her then. "I don't want him seeing me like this, Bones. And he's active, you know? I can't keep up with that anymore."

"I don't think he cares about any of that. I think he'd just like to see his father."

Booth gave it some thought before submitting. The next afternoon he left the Jeffersonian early to pick up Parker from school. They spent the evening together. Booth came home completely spent. He barely made it to bed before he was asleep. Brennan laid down besides him and rubbed his back. "Whatever happened," she under toned to him, knowing he couldn't hear her. She didn't care. She spoke anyway. "You did good, Booth."

The following morning she woke alone. She left the bed to find Booth in the living room. He was standing stock still, slowly turning to look at everything around him. "Booth?"

"You realize we're paying for two apartments?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Yes. So?"

"Isn't that stupid? Shouldn't we start bringing some of my stuff over here?"

"I don't know if it would fit." She joined his side. "We should really look for a place together. We'll need a room for a child."

"So we should start apartment hunting. Or house hunting! We should get a house. With a big screen television. And a big yard to run around in. And-"

"Booth. One thing at a time." She laughed. "We need to work on you, right now."

He waved his hand. "You're already two months along. If I don't think of this stuff, you won't."

"We'll look. I promise."

That seemed to pacify him. For the moment.

Meanwhile her work into his disease was going forward. Through the x-ray scanner in the lab they were able to take new sets of images of Booth's body. Brennan stole the scans away once they were developed before anyone else could see. In the privacy of her office she clipped them onto a light box so she could read them. Every single scan she checked confirmed her worst fear. Booth's cancer was spreading. Immediately she was on the phone to Dr. Kaplan. Out of all of Booth's doctors it was still that woman whom she trusted the most. She explained her new findings.

Dr. Kaplan sighed. "I still recommend chemo."

"But what's the point? Every report says that until this is out of his body nothing is going to stop it from killing him. Why needlessly make him sick?"

"Because it's still a line of defense. It may not get rid of the cancer. But it will slow it down. It will give you more time to continue your search. I know he wasn't sold on doing it before, but I think it would be to his benefit if he did."

Brennan exhaled. She knew Booth detested the idea. "I'll talk to him. Do you have any recommendations for doctors out here?"

Before she hung up she jotted down a few names. By now they all were a dime a dozen to her. She jumped up from her chair and paced the length of her office. Exhausted, frustrated tears burned her eyes. And then all at once it wasn't just her emotions that were troubled. She bolted through the lab straight into the bathroom. Just before she vomited she managed to get inside.

Afterwards she washed off her face and rinsed out her mouth in the sink. What bore back at her was shocking. All she could see was the image of a stressed out, hormonal pregnant woman who was on the verge of losing her mind. She needed to go home for the evening. There were others who could carry on her work. As of this moment she needed to trust them.

Back in the lab she informed her colleagues of her departure. Then she searched various offices in a search for Booth. Mostly he slept all day when he wasn't being tested on. Every day he picked a random office to sleep in. Today it happened to be Angela's that he'd chosen for his nap.

He was difficult to rouse, which worried her. "We're going home." She told him.

With a brief nod he lifted himself up. Together the two left. They supported each other through the parking garage to their car. Once inside they began their decent home. Brennan decided that this was the opportune time to speak with him. In her peripheral view she could see he was already readying to fall back asleep. "I got the results back of your x-rays we did this morning." She began. When he was mute she continued. "You're getting sicker."

"I know." He mumbled.

"I called Dr. Kaplan. She still is recommending for you to do chemotherapy. She gave me the names of some doctors she believes are good. I'm also going to compile a list of my own. But I know you were against going through it before. So I'm leaving it up to you. You don't have to decide anything now."

Booth kept his gaze fixated out the window. "She thinks it'll help me?"

"She thinks it would be valuable, yes."

"Will it prolong my life any? Will it give you longer to fight for me?"

"Yes. She seems to think so."

Booth inhaled deeply. "But if you're working how am I going to get back and forth from the doctor's office?"

"I'll hire a cab. Money won't be an issue."

He sucked his bottom lip. "Then I'll do it."

"Are you sure?"

He smiled wryly. "You told me to give you time, right?"

"I did," she nodded and smiled, feeling comforted.

Booth was back for the fight.


	60. The Outcome Is Worth The Price

During the next month Booth and Brennan almost never saw one another. Starting from that day Booth was put under a rigorous chemotherapy program. He met with Dr. Merck, the man Brennan had chosen during an extensive search. During their appointment he kept Booth sitting on an exam table in nothing but his boxers and a hospital gown. Quietly he studied the latest reports Brennan had brought with them. Then he set to work on Booth's body. He pushed, pulled, and poked. Booth stiffened, his muscles turning into steel in areas that especially hurt. Brennan wanted to stop him. But she knew she couldn't. If this was what the doctor needed to do to help him, then so be it. However, it still bothered her. Particularly when Booth grunted painfully while the tumor on his chest was being prodded.

Dr. Merck stood back. "I recommend chemotherapy every day of the week for the next month."

Booth said nothing. His eyes when they were directed at Brennan said it all. Was this guy for real?

"Isn't that awful… harsh… to start with?" Brennan wondered.

"Is it. But the rate in which this is spreading requires immediate and severe action. After a month I will reevaluate and we can regroup from there. But right now this is what I think should be done."

Brennan looked again to her husband "Okay." She said for the both of them.

At home that night Booth had barely eaten. He'd said nothing while pushing food around his plate like a child. Brennan could see his mind processing what was happening, and so she didn't push him for conversation. Whenever he was ready she would be there. Whatever he needed to ready himself for the new fight ahead of him were things she was willing to give him. If he required time and space then she would back off.

In bed that night though she laid close to him. Her head was on his chest. Unfortunately this meant she was at eye level with the tumor across from her. It continued to protrude from his muscle out into his skin, making it appear as though he had a peach colored dome. Carefully she touched it with her index finger. Though it was a light touch she could still feel his muscles tense. "Sorry." She whispered.

He was quiet.

"I know it hurts, Booth. You don't have to act alpha for me."

Silence.

She kissed him. He melted into her lips and touch. "It'll be all right," she'd promised.

The following day began their time alone. Brennan kept herself locked in the lab all day searching for his cure. She and Hodgins were getting close. Cam and Angela, though they were not scientists and were non savvy in the ways of the medical field, did the best they could to contribute. There was no way they could fail with so many talented brains working on their side.

Booth spent his days receiving treatments. By the time Brennan came home at night he was long asleep in bed, recovering from the day's activity. But remnants of him were every where. Every night he made a point in providing dinner for her. In the beginning he cooked. She never knew what she would be coming home to. But she loved it all. Yet when they neared the end of the month it was take out or delivery he was leaving for her. The fact that it wasn't home cooked didn't mean any less. He was still watching out for her.

She came into the bedroom one night to find papers scattered around him in bed. In gathering them up she saw they were classified ads. Certain ads were circled in red ink. All of them were for different houses for sale. Smiling, she'd kissed his forehead. Booth had been right. With all that had been going on she had forgotten about finding a place for them. And with the way her stomach was swelling she knew she needed to.

The following morning she made an appointment to tour one of the houses on his list. Since it was Saturday neither one of them had anywhere to be. She was sitting in the kitchen eating breakfast when he stumbled in from the bedroom. One whiff of her food and he about turned green.

"Hi." She greeted him. Missing his reaction, she offered her plate. "Want some?" He was getting skinny, which though she knew was an effect from chemo it still bothered her.

He shook his head no.

"I found your list of houses." She continued on. "I made an appointment to see one that I really liked as well. If you feel up to it, it's at noon."

He merely nodded. Then he laid down on the couch in her living room. His actions weren't easing her worried mind. She finished eating, then she laid down besides him. Her body nuzzled up against his. He stroked her hair away from her face and looked into her eyes. Through everything she could still see the light shining in them. _There he is._

The truth was Booth didn't want to go. House hunting was something he did in between being sick when he got home from a treatment. It was what he did to keep his mind off of being sick. But he still showered and dressed, and went with her to the appointment.

The house which they toured was expansive. There were six bedrooms with three bathrooms and a basement spaced over three floors. "What are we going to do with so many bedrooms?" Booth hissed to Brennan.

"Put children them in."

He was taken aback. "Just how many kids do you plan on us having, Bones?"

She just smiled.

They went down into the basement. Booth's mind was hard at work. Already he began to picture a "man cave" for himself. His eyes were alight, darting to and fro as he planned. Brennan could only smile harder. Once he survived this she was willing to give him anything he wanted.

On the main floor he waved the other two on upstairs. "Go ahead and have a look. I'm not done looking around down here."

The two moved on. Booth never joined them. This wouldn't strike Brennan as being odd until much later.

The couple went ahead and put a bid in on the house. Then they journeyed back home. Brennan couldn't stop thinking about work. Especially given Booth's weakened state. As soon as they were in the door he was back on the couch. He wiggled a bit out of his jeans. Then he prepared what she presumed was a shot of morphine and injected himself in his hip.

Brennan had no idea he'd gone back on morphine. She realized over the course of the month there were a lot of things she no longer knew about him. Her mind was made up. "I'm going to the lab."

"It's Saturday," he said as though she were crazy.

"I know. But we're close to finding a cure for you." She was pleased to finally be able to share the good news. "I need to go."

She could see in his eyes the morphine was already having its way with him. He motioned her off with his hand. Before leaving she kissed him. "I'll be home soon."

"Mmhmm."

Hours passed by while she was in the lab. The night had long begun before she realized how late it was. On her way out to her car she checked her messages for missed calls. There weren't any. Not even from Booth. She wasn't sure if it was a good or a bad sign.

Her apartment was still when she got home. All the lights save for one in the kitchen were off. Once again Booth had left out dinner for her. Appreciatively she sat and ate. After doing some small tasks around the house she readied for bed.

Booth was already sleeping. She dressed in her nightgown in the dark so as not to wake him. Then she turned the covers back and slipped her body down underneath. She shut her eyes and listened to the soft sound of Booth's breathing. Only, the sound wasn't so soft. There was something weird in his breaths. He wasn't breathing normally. Then upon one of his exhales he failed to inhale. She waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

Finally she jostled him. "Booth?" When she received nothing back from him she pressed two fingers against his neck. She was stunned to realize his pulse was fading. "BOOTH!" She hollered, sitting up on her knees. Harder she shook him. "Booth, c'mon! What's wrong?"

Then as if nothing had happened he inhaled once again. His breathing was still compromised but it was back to a normal pattern. This was too much for Brennan. Something was wrong. She needed to get him to the Jeffersonian to run some tests on him. "Booth," she spoke gentler now. "Booth, get up. We have to go."

"What? Where?" He slurred.

"The Jeffersonian. I need to take some x-rays of you."

"Why?"

"Because you just stopped breathing and your heart almost stopped." She climbed out of bed. Before she could move he turned the bed side light on. "Bones. Come back."

"We have to go. I have to-"

"A tumor's formed on my heart."

She was frozen in her movements.

"Merck's thinking that the tough chemotherapy I'm doing will shrink it. It's either that or surgery and no one really thinks surgery would be a good idea right now."

Brennan was still paralyzed.

"I'll have him send you the x-rays on Monday." He paused. "Bones, say something. Look at me."

Slowly she turned around. It became painful for her connect the dots. Earlier in the day Booth hadn't wanted to go upstairs in the house because he couldn't push himself to get up there. He'd been too worn out to go on with them. And now she knew why.

"C'mere," he gestured to the bed next to him. Numbly she laid herself back down by his side. Her eyes closed tightly. A tear fell from one. She felt him brush it away. "Hey, it'll be all right. I'll be all right."

"Booth, this is serious." She whispered.

"I'm not giving up."

She opened her eyes. In his she could see more determination than she'd seen in a long time.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'll always be right here."

She took his words into her heart and held them. They were so close to saving him. She'd use this deadline now as a fire to step up their efforts. The end of his disease was drawing near.


	61. Time Apart

From that day forward Brennan worked even harder than she had before. She pushed herself to the very extreme. At night she was the last one to leave the lab. In the morning she was the first one to arrive. Sometimes upon leaving she only stopped home long enough to check on Booth and have a quick meal before heading straight back to work the night through. The cure felt like it was right at her very fingertips. But it seemed like every time they were about to be successful in their efforts something happened to set them back. The virus was always a step ahead of them.

The hardest part for Brennan was not being hands on involved in Booth's care. Because of their continued time apart she was not in the loop as to what was happening to him. Reports were faxed over once a week. X-rays were sent sporadically. But with everything she looked at, she felt like she was only receiving half of the truth. It was Booth's doing, she was sure. While he grasped how much she needed to know of his medical doings, he also still possessed that need to protect her. She could appreciate it. But not in such a dire time. Not when knowing the truth was vital in saving his life.

Weekends, what at one time was their saving grace together, soon became no different than any other of the days of the week. Booth slept almost all the time. Brennan would wake him just to check on him. He was lucid; he knew where he was, who she was, the day and year and so on. But something she couldn't identify was off about him. Yet it wasn't until she woke a few mornings to find him missing that she decided she needed to spend all her free time in the lab. If Booth was once again pulling his disappearing acts, and if he was using all his strength to commit those acts, then she knew things had hit a new level of seriousness.

One afternoon Hodgins came to find Brennan in her office. He was nearly vibrating with excitement. "I think I got it."

She glanced up from the report she was writing, startled. "A…" she could hardly form the words. "A cure?"

He nodded eagerly. "I still have a few more tests to run to be sure. I need another sample of his blood."

"We'll get it." She was on the phone immediately. She called Booth, who didn't answer. Irritated, she tried again once she received his voice mail. Still no response. She figured he was sleeping, and perhaps not hearing the phone. "I better just go home." She rose from her desk. "I'll bring him in and we'll take a sample."

The entire drive to her apartment was spent trying to get a hold of him. No matter what he just wasn't answering. She tried not to panic. Maybe it was something as simple as he'd left his phone in another room. Or he was in such a deep sleep he wasn't hearing it. The chemo was leaving him more exhausted than usual lately.

At home she rushed inside. "Booth?" She called while taking off her coat. Everything was completely still. Brennan set forth into looking for him. "Booth?" She tried again. The first place she looked was the bedroom. Sure enough, there he laid on top of the sheets. He was on his stomach, with his head turned to one side.

"Booth, I've been trying to call you." She knelt over him. When he didn't wake she became more concerned. Tenderly she touched his arm. His skin was cool and clammy. For the first time she noticed how slow and shallow his breathing was. Guardedly she rolled him onto his back. He was flaccid and therefore easy to move. She tried tapping his cheek. "Booth?"

He just simply wasn't rousing. Her fingers barely held still when she reached to check his pulse. It sluggishly moved along beneath her touch. Something had happened, she became sick to realize. Booth needed medical attention immediately.

Two hours later she was waiting for news in the waiting room at the hospital. She'd made all the correct calls she'd needed to. Now she could barely keep her eyes open. In fact, she'd just about fallen asleep when to her surprise Dr. Merck joined her. He sat down in a chair directly besides her.

Brennan straightened. "What happened to him?"

"It was a morphine overdose."

She inhaled tightly. Her stomach turned to lead, and a grapefruit sized lump clogged her throat. "Was it… was he trying to…" Tears pricked her eyes. _Kill himself?_

"He strongly insists that he wasn't. He took a dose for his pain, then became disoriented and took another one, forgetting about the first. The level we found in his system backs his story."

"But the amount in which he's taking-"

"Has increased. I'm sorry." Dr. Merck put a sympathetic hand on her arm. "This all leads me into what I need to talk to you about next. I don't feel that he can live by himself anymore."

"He's not living by himself." She argued.

"Essentially, he is, since you're never there. Either someone needs to be with him always, or he needs to be admitted to the cancer unit here in the hospital."

Brennan kept silent. Booth, of course, wouldn't tolerate being admitted. Especially not now. With how sick he was he would take it as a sign of showing others he was weak, or giving up. And while she knew neither of these things were true she also knew what she thought wouldn't matter.

If Booth stayed home then Brennan would have to give up her part in searching for his cure. She'd have to stay home with him. They were on the verge of saving him… could she really surrender her control? Could she give up if it meant saving his life? "Can I see him?"

Dr. Merck didn't hide his surprise. "I-"

"I need to speak with him. A decision doesn't need to be made right now, does it?" She quipped back.

"No." Dr. Merck agreed. He led her straight into Booth's room. Booth was laying in bed, alert. Barely. His half opened eyes followed her as she drew close. He managed a feeble smile for her benefit. Sadly she tried to smile back. It fell short. Before sitting down next to him she took his hand into her own. Her fingers intertwined with his. "Booth."

"Bones." He rasped in a low whisper.

"How are you?"

As usual he ignored her inquiry. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"I know." She looked down at their hands. "Dr. Merck came to speak with me. He says you can't be left alone anymore."

Booth scoffed. "Because of this? It was just an accident."

Brennan shut down the part of her that knew him so well. She tried to see him as a stranger would. What she saw was a man clinging to life by a thread. A man who was fading in front of her. "No, Booth. I think he's right."

Booth angrily shook his head. "So, what? What does that mean?"

"It means," she braced herself. Booth may have been weak, but she had to imagine his anger was going to be great. "You either have to stay here from now on-"

He didn't disappoint. "No. No way, Bones. Forget it." He tried to sit up. Delicately she put her hands on him. He fell back against his pillows with little force. Instantly she knew exactly what she needed to do. The small reaction only confirmed her belief. "Or I need to stay home with you."

He appeared as though she'd physically cut him. "You can't do that."

"I have to."

"No. You have to work. That means everything to you, Bones."

She looked down at the floor. "Without you… there's no point."

He sighed. "I'll stay here, okay?"

"You'll hate it."

"I'll adjust. I'll adapt. Whatever. I can survive this." The small strain on his emotions was tiring him out. He reclined his head back against his pillows and closed his eyes. "I've been through worse."

"Yes, you have." She agreed quietly. _Maybe he's better off here. If something happens then his medical staff is already near by. _But she couldn't completely convince herself of that. As he fell asleep she held his hand. _Hold on, Booth. I'll get you out of here._


	62. Sick And Tired Of Being Sick And Tired

From that day forward Booth was admitted into the Oncology unit there in the hospital. Brennan hated herself for not being able to figure out another option for him. "Are you sure about this? You can come home." She reminded him in a hushed voice as an intake nurse was processing his condition.

Bravely, Booth just shook his head. He hadn't said much to anyone since committing himself to his fate. He stared straight ahead as his nurse, a young woman with tanned skin and curly dark hair checked his temperature. She frowned at the digital display reading once the machine finished.

"Fever?" Brennan guessed.

"No. Actually it's awful low." She looked up into Brennan's worried face. "Don't worry, I'll have a doctor look into it." After finishing up the woman introduced herself as Nurse Shelly. "I'll be his attendant here on the unit."

"You'll be working with Dr. Merck?"

"One on one," she promised with a smile. "And now, I should really get him to his room." Shelly motioned in the hall for two men, other aids, to join her.

"I'll go with to make sure the room is satisfactory." Brennan stood from where she had been seated.

"Actually, Dr. Brennan, it's probably best you head out. Getting settled can take some time, and then he'll be meeting with his doctor and then likely he'll be going to chemo. You may come back and see him tomorrow."

Brennan shifted her gaze from Shelly to Booth. "If you're sure…" She was clearly reluctant to leave. Before heading for the door she kissed him, her lips lingering on his. Finally she separated herself and left. Booth shut his eyes as his bed was maneuvered down into his own hospital room. Only after he heard footsteps receding did he trust himself to look around once again. Shelly was the only one who still remained. "When's Merck coming?" He asked her.

"He's not."

Booth blinked. "What about chemo?"

Shelly guiltily stared down at the floor. "Look, I may have over stepped my boundaries, but I lied to your wife. From what I can tell you have had someone in your face constantly. I thought you might just need a break from everyone."

He wasn't sure how to feel. "Thank you." A real, extended rest actually did sound quite nice.

"You just relax," she pulled his blankets up over him. "I'll be back later to find out what you want for dinner."

He shook his head. "Just Jello. I don't eat, really."

"You have to eat."

"I'll just end up vomiting it later."

"Well, then," she gathered her supplies. "We need to have something in your stomach to vomit later." She patted his foot on her way out of his room. He smirked to her retreating back. For some strange reason he was already taking a liking to her. That short burst of amusement quickly faded. His gaze drifted to outside his hospital room window. Soft flakes of white snow were falling down to the earth. He wished he could have been outside in it playing with his son. Then again, lately his ultimate wish had been to completely disappear.

He detested the thought of having to spend the rest of his days in a hospital bed. All because he'd made one stupid mistake that anyone could have made. Okay, he sighed. Maybe not _anyone_. But did he really deserve to be admitted because of it? Now the secrets he'd been hiding were doomed to be brought out into the light. He couldn't hide from Brennan anymore when he was trying to conceal what was happening to him; when he just needed some time for himself. There would be no more shielding her from the reports of his lack of progress. All the power he'd had had been stripped away. Now he was being forced to abide by someone else's rules in his own game.

Eventually he dozed off. He didn't wake until he felt something uncomfortable in his ear. Shelly was taking his temperature. She pulled the device out and once again made a face. "I've got to tell Dr. Merck." She felt Booth's eyes on her. "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"What time is it?"

"It's late. You've been asleep a long time. My shift ends in a few minutes. I just wanted to check on you one last time before I leave."

"Thanks." He yawned. All that sleep and he still felt sapped.

"Is there anything you need before I go?"

"Nothing you can give me," he muttered before he could stop himself.

She paused her movements. "You sure?"

He made himself smile. "Yeah. Thanks though."

Shelly didn't seem so sure. But she wished him good night, leaving him alone to think.

* * *

"_Do you really think you're going to make it out of here alive? Do you really think I'm going to _let _you out of here alive?" Amanda laughed. She jabbed a needle so hard into his arm Booth saw stars. "Now," she leaned in so her mouth was next to his ear. "What's happening to you is paralysis. As the drug winds through your veins it's going to shut your body down one system at a time."_

_Booth gasped as the drug did just as she described. His arms and legs turned into dead weight. He couldn't move. He was unable to do anything as she ran her hands up and down over his body. Involuntarily he trembled with force._

"_No need to be scared." She brandished a metal pipe. "This will only hurt until you pass out."_

"Booth!" Brennan was near screaming his name. She'd come in first thing in the morning to see him to find him caught in the middle of a nightmare. It'd been a while since she'd seen him suffer from one so badly. Her hands were on him, and she could feel how fast and furious his pulse was racing. She was afraid for the tumor on his heart. "Booth, come on! Wake up!"

He was starting to curl himself into a protective pose when he finally opened his eyes. He continued gasping so hard his entire body got involved. Brennan kept her hands on him until she noticed him wincing. Immediately she took a step away. _This had stopped before I admitted him. Maybe I made a mistake. Maybe I should have stayed home with him._

The labored breaths came under control. Booth squirmed under her scrutiny. He couldn't look at her. This was exactly a moment in which he would have disappeared had they been at home. His muscles burned.

"Can I do anything?" Brennan wondered helplessly. He didn't answer her. He was too ashamed of himself to look at her. So she sat down besides him. "Then I'm going to sit here with you for a while."

For an entire half an hour she stayed with him. And during that time he didn't speak at all. Finally she could put off going to work no longer. "I'll stop by after work." She kissed him. He only half heartedly kissed her back. His eyes were still trained on the bed spread covering him when she left.

Hours passed by. Booth laid awake staring at the ceiling in thought. Breakfast came. He didn't eat. Around eleven Shelly came into his room. "It's time for chemo." She informed him.

"I'm not going," he snapped back. Her stunned expression killed him. She didn't deserve his misplaced anger. "I mean, can't I just take a break for one day? Is it really going to make a difference?"

"I can check with Dr. Merck." She approached him. "You're not having a good day, are you? I saw your wife leave this morning. She seemed pretty upset."

He set his jaw. When he dared himself to look at her he saw a genuine, caring person watching him. And suddenly, all that was on his mind came pouring out. "I have a baby on the way; the wife of my dreams, and I just wish I was dead." Tears shined in his eyes. "Isn't that horrible?"

Shelly shook her head. "No. I've been working this unit a long time. And what you're saying is pretty common. It's the words of someone putting up a good fight."

Booth had to steady his emotions before he could continue. "I was abducted by a woman. She abused me in every way possible. She tortured me."

Quiet, Shelly remained. She knew all this already. Upon being appointed as his nurse she'd had to read his file. But it didn't seem like the right time to point this out. So she listened.

"She infected me with this cancer."

"That your wife is looking for a cure for, right?" She saw him pause. "You don't think she can do it?"

"Bones is extremely smart. So are the Squints. It's not that I don't think they can do it. They can work miracles. I just worry there is no cure for me. This woman, Amanda, wanted me dead by any means possible. She also was really smart. I have to imagine she didn't leave any loop holes."

Shelly gently touched his hand in support.

"I just want to be selfish. I want to just… give up and go to Heaven. I want God to give me some answers as to why this is happening to me. I want people to stop pitying me." He shut his eyes tightly. In a choked whisper he added, "I just want it to stop."

"Do you want me to get the Reverend from the chapel to come speak with you?"

"No. I just want to sleep." He shut his eyes. "So tired," he added faintly.

"You sleep." She agreed. She watched down over him as he sank instantly into a deep sleep. Suddenly she was a lot more worried about him than she had been before.


	63. Hope Fades, Choices Made

**"I won't let you, let you give up on a miracle, when it might save you" - Paramore**

* * *

_Brennan stalked from Booth's hospital room holding back tears. Her chest ached from the heavy emotional weight crushing down on it. It was taking all she had just to make it out of the building. In her car she'd allow herself a good, heart wrenching cry. But not here. Not in front of strangers. She had to disassociate. It was the only way she could survive._

"_Dr. Brennan?"_

_She stopped in her tracks when she heard Booth's doctor call for her. Upon turning around she found him approaching her. Brennan didn't know what to think. Whatever he had to say had the potential of being bad news, judging by the grim look on his face. "Yes?" She asked, her voice much more meek than she intended._

"_I'm glad I caught you. We need to talk. Lets go somewhere private."_

_Her stomach churned like a cement mixer. "Just tell me here, please. I'm late for work." Actually she wished he wouldn't tell her anything at all._

"_I'm not sure if it will make a difference in whatever research you and your team are working on. But I just thought you should know that he's now fifteen pounds under weight. We're having difficultly with his blood pressure, as well. It's been quite low, which is resulting in a low body temperature."_

_Brennan could only nod. She didn't trust her voice._

"_The chemo is helping some, but not much."_

Please. Don't say anymore. _"I will take this news into consideration and relay it to my team."_

"_Good. I'm not trying to frustrate or deter you, Dr. Brennan. I just thought you should know what is going on with him. I know he has grown to be quite adept at hiding his condition from you."_

"_Yes. Thank you." Brennan had fled before he could say more. _

"Sweetie?"

Brennan's eyes blinked open. She lifted her head from where it had been laying on her desk. Her forearms had served as her pillow. When she straightened a sharp pain reverberated up her back. Just how long had she been sleeping? After her conversation with Dr. Merck she'd confined herself in the safety of her office. There she'd cried herself into a deep sleep.

"You've been in here a long time. Are you all right?" Angela approached her desk. She'd been worried about her best friend since she'd caught sight of her entering the lab hours ago. Brennan had barely muttered a hello, barely looked at any of them before stealing away. Angela knew something was wrong. She only hoped Brennan would confide in her.

Brennan pressed her lips into a straight line.

"Something happened with Booth, didn't it?"

Still, no words were said.

"Sweetie… talk to me."

Brennan dropped her eyes down to her desk. In someone else's voice she rehashed her visit with Booth that morning, including the news Dr. Merck had dropped on her. "I knew he'd become anorexic, but I didn't realize how much weight he'd lost." She swallowed. "I think I made the wrong decision in letting him hospitalize himself. The nightmares are coming back. The uncomfortable feelings around women..."

"So take him out. Take him home and hire a nurse."

It was hard for Brennan to admit, but she spoke the truth. "I'm afraid for his mental state. I'm afraid if it's not me around all the time to watch him-"

"Then he's going to find a way to do something stupid." Angela sighed for her.

"He just seemed to be so angry with me, Ange. He wouldn't talk or look at me. His heart just isn't into this anymore. He's only doing things because I'm asking him to. He'd do anything for me, and this baby. But if it were just him I think he'd give up. And," a hot tear escaped from her eye. "I'm beginning to think I should tell him it's all right if he does."

Angela let her stunned silence be enough of a response. Brennan continued. "He's suffering. I witness it more and more every time I'm with him. And now, now that his mood is declining as well I think I'm asking too much of him. I'm wondering if I need to tell him its all right for him to leave." She surprised herself by abruptly sobbing. "But I don't think I can."

Angela took a hold of her hand. "Then don't. If this is happening then you need to get in there and be his strength. Fight for him. We're actively looking for a cure. Hodgins was playing around with the blood sample you had transferred here. We'll find something, some way to help him."

"He just doesn't have the time."

"Then we'll make time. He's not going anywhere."

Brennan tried to take heart in her words. But she just couldn't. Angela hadn't seen Booth as of late. She had no idea what they were up against. Still, she offered a weak, strained smile when her best friend left her office, closing the door again behind her. Brennan reclined in her chair and looked at the ceiling. When her phone rang she nearly jumped out of her seat. It occurred to her not to answer it. She gave in ultimately, unable to hide in her voice the exhaustion she felt. "Brennan."

"Dr. Brennan, it's Dr. Kaplan."

Brennan sat up. Why was she calling? "Yes, hi."

"Sorry to call you out of the blue. I just had some news that I couldn't wait to tell you anymore." She continued on to tell Brennan all about the work she'd done searching for her own answers and cure to Booth's cancer. "I really believe I'm on to something. But I could use some help. Are you available to come back to Vegas?"

"I can't bring Booth." She said immediately. He'd never survive the trip. She was positive it'd kill him.

"That's all right. Having your help is what matters."

Brennan found herself in a conundrum. Curing Booth meant the the world to her. It mattered more than anything. Her team was working on a cure. But what if she and Dr. Kaplan could find a way to help Booth as well? Was it an opportunity she passed up? Going to Vegas meant not spending what could be the end of Booth's life with him. "I know it sounds absurd, but can I take some time to think and call you back?"

"Of course. Just let me know your decision either way. I won't stop working."

"Thank you." Brennan hung up. She couldn't express how appreciative she was at how hard everyone was working. She only hoped their efforts weren't in vain.

* * *

"I heard you wanted to speak with me."

Booth was at the end of his rapidly fraying rope. He opened his eyes to find Dr. Merck standing in the doorway entrance to his room. He tried to soften the hardened glare that had permanently taken up residence in his features. It was no use. "Yeah. I did."

Dr. Merck's eyes never looked away while he approached. "What's going on? I was told you refused to go to your chemo appointment this morning. Is that what this is about?"

If there was one thing Booth appreciated about Merck, it was that he didn't pull any punches. He said what was on his mind. Always. "Yeah. Look, I want the truth." Booth took a moment to catch his breath. Attempt to calm his pounding heart. The answer to the question he was about to ask was due to be devestating. "Is the chemo helping at all? Am I just wasting my time doing this?"

"Your condition has shown little improvement," the doctor said softly after letting a moment pass. "We haven't had the results I was hoping for."

Booth nodded. His vision blurred. Her lowered his gaze to his blanket. "How long?" The words were just barely heard.

"A month. Maybe two, if we push it."

Just barely did he find the strength to shake his head. A protective numbness fell over his mind and body. Suddenly he just couldn't feel anything. Not emotionally. Somewhere inside him he knew he should have been more distraught at the news. In days in which he'd had more energy he was sure he would have. But now… now he just felt too drained to even try. "Then I want heavy painkillers," he said, still not looking up. "I don't care about addiction. It doesn't matter now. I just want this pain to stop."

Dr. Merck appeared to internally wrestle with himself before agreeing. "We'll keep you comfortable."

"And unless she asks… I don't want Bones knowing about this. She doesn't need to." _She needs to think about herself, and the baby. _His last hope was on her finding a cure. But then and there it seemed to be too much to hope for anything.

"Okay."

* * *

Before going home later on that evening Brennan made a quick run back to the hospital. She found Booth's room dark when she slipped inside. He was sound asleep. She was surprised to hear him snoring when she drew close enough to hear him. It'd been a long time since she could recall him sleeping so deeply. Affectionately she ran her hand along the length of his arm. He didn't tense up, which she was grateful for. But her fingers did pass along something that made her pause. Another lump had formed underneath his skin. A new tumor. Down next to him she sat with tear filled eyes.

For an hour she sat and thought, watching him sleep the entire time. More tumors meant more surgeries. More pain. And for what? To have it all happen again? It was a vicious, non ending circle. Same activities resulted in the same results. In an instant her logic made her mind up. "I won't be here when you wake up." She kissed his lips lightly. He wasn't disturbed. "But I'm coming back to save you. Dr. Kaplan and I will find a cure, if Hodgins and everyone doesn't first. Just hold on. Please." A tear fell. "Just give me a little longer. I won't let you go. I won't give up."

It was back off to Las Vegas.


	64. Like Soldiers, March On

**A Month Later**

Brennan could barely focus. She decided it was a good thing someone else was driving, as if it were she there was a real risk she'd cause a car accident. Traffic was backed up for miles on end. It'd been this way ever since she'd been picked up by the taxi she'd ordered back at the airport. She wanted to climb out and push the cars out of the way herself. Briefly she thought about walking the rest of the way. It had to be faster than the mess they were stuck in. As minutes grew by she found herself willing to do anything to reach Booth.

In the month she'd been away she knew things had changed. Not exact things. No one would talk to her. Dr. Merck avoided her phone calls. Though she left message after message he never attempted to reach her. But she knew it by the change in Booth's behavior. During the first week or so in which she'd been gone they talked on the phone multiple times a day. His voice was the only distraction she'd allow. Besides, of course, the baby. While in Vegas she met up with an obstetrician to take charge of her care. Soon she was armed with photos and other souvenirs to bring back to Booth. She hoped they would help him fight; to be a physical reminder of what he was holding on for.

In that first week it was obvious to Brennan Booth was still angry. Exhausted. Melancholy. He mostly listened, sometimes interjecting with a word here or there. It seemed as if he called mostly just to hear her voice. She was only happy to jabber on. She informed him of her work. But mostly she just talked about the baby. From what she was able to gather it seemed to be the subject that really pulled his mind away from the darkness it'd sunk into.

But then, things began to change. The edge in his voice disappeared. Suddenly his words were light and airy. His sentences didn't always make sense. He sounded intoxicated. "What's wrong with you?" She asked during one particularly bad conversation.

"Nuthin.' I'm going home."

Her heart had felt like it pushed forward into her rib cage. "What do you mean?"

His tone faded. "Goodnight." He near slurred. The call ended.

However, it was only after he stopped taking her calls that her fear really got the best of her. His phone would ring endlessly without an answer. She tried getting patched through to his room through the nurses' desk. Every time she got the same result. It was then she'd started trying to call Merck. Not having any information on her husband near tore her apart. "Maybe I should just go home," she confided to Dr. Kaplan one night. The two women had taken the briefest of breaks to share a bottle of wine. "He needs me. I need to know what's going on."

Dr. Kaplan hesitated before speaking. "If its as bad as you think, then you're better off staying here." She touched the back of Brennan's hand. "There's nothing you can do for him in D.C."

The words were a hard blow. But she was right. What could she do for him? All she'd done was watch him get worse. Yet as the days passed on her anxiousness level only rose. She never stopped trying to call. But no one ever picked up. In desperation she sent Angela to the hospital to scope things out. Unfortunately her best friend wasn't able to learn much. Dr. Merck headed her off before she could see Booth. He refused to speak to her since she wasn't family. "I'm sorry, sweetie." Angela sighed sorrowfully over the phone line. "I tried."

It seemed like a miracle sent straight from God (if Brennan believed in one) when Dr. Kaplan stumbled upon a "cure." In the middle of the night Brennan had woken to frantic pounding on the door of her hotel room. She'd opened and Dr. Kaplan had nearly tumbled forward into her arms. "I got it," she told Brennan breathlessly.

Brennan wasn't sure she heard her right. Couldn't have heard her right. Right? "I'm sorry?"

Dr. Kaplan pulled a vial from inside her coat pocket. "This should cure Booth."

She displayed no emotion. Her eyes switched from the potion in the vial back to Dr. Kaplan. "How?"

"Are you really interested in the science? You need to go home and give this to him!"

Truth be told, no, she wasn't all that interested in how Dr. Kaplan had reached her end result. The woman had more than proven her competence as both a medical doctor and a scientist. But it was almost too much to believe that their escapade had finally reached an end. A happy ending. Brennan still remained silent. But she hugged the doctor for all she was worth. "Thank you."

"If it saves his life, you are more than welcome."

Brennan had taken the next available flight back to D.C.

The baby chose that moment to kick in her stomach. She rubbed at the area. Her hand remained against her skin. She could feel her child putting pressure up against her palm. Tears floated in her eyes. _He has to stay alive to feel this. _She sniffed away the sudden stinging of tears. _He has to meet his child._

An hour passed before traffic finally broke and they were able to make it to the hospital. Brennan thrust money at the driver, not knowingly over tipping him, while climbing out of the cab. She tugged her luggage out after her, being extra mindful of the bag containing the vial. Through the hospital she marched. Not one person registered in her mind. Her physical being was like a homing device, taking her straight to Booth.

She jogged the last few steps straight into his room. "Booth! I'm back!" She got in a few steps before coming to an abrupt halt. The wind got knocked out of her lungs. The man laying in bed in front of her wasn't at all recognizable. His body mass had faded away to near nothing. His skin tone had taken on a bluish gray coloring, which darkened in both his lips and fingertips. Life support was keeping a weak pattern of breathing. Her mouth fell open. A tear slipped from her eye just looking at him. "Booth?" She whispered. It took a great amount of strength and force to approach him. Over his forehead she tenderly rested her hand. "I'm here."

He opened his eyes. But she instantly could tell that though he was looking at her, he was seeing straight through her.

At that moment Shelley entered the room. She took one look at Brennan and spun on her heel.

"Wait!" Brennan called after her. She cut her off at the door. "What's going on? What happened to him? Why didn't anyone call me to tell me things had gotten this bad?"

Shelley was rattled. It was evident. "They're prepping him for surgery."

This was becoming unbelievable. "What? He'll die!"

"Let me go get Dr. Merck." Off she went.

Brennan turned back to Booth. "This was you, wasn't it?" She questioned his silent body. "You requested I be left out of the loop. And everyone went along with it." So many emotions left her unknowing which one was the strongest. What she should feel.

Dr. Merck entered the room a few moments later. He looked just as he always did. He didn't seem to do anything to prepare for the rage that was to be laid on him. "Dr. Brennan. I understand you want to know what happened. Just after you left Booth requested an update on his condition. The truth is the chemo really wasn't doing much to help. He asked to stop his treatments all together. He wanted to go straight onto a morphine drip."

Brennan swallowed. The pain must have been too great. She nodded for him to continue.

"The tumors on both his heart and lung keep metastasizing. They're growing, and effectively ending his life. We're readying him for surgery to attempt to remove what we can."

"He's too weak." She glanced back at him. "He'll die on the table."

"He's dying, Dr. Brennan. I can't guarantee he'll make it through. But I can tell you this is at least giving him a chance."

"I have a cure." She argued. "Dr. Kaplan and I created a solution which will stop the cancer from continuing to spread."

"And we can go ahead and give that to him. But it won't help the preexisting tumors. I'm sorry. This is the only way left to help him."

Brennan had no choice but to concede. Dr. Merck oversaw her actions as she plugged the vial into Booth's IV. The life saving liquid flowed down through a plastic tube straight into his body. With a nod Dr. Merck left to carry on his plan of surgery.

Brennan squeezed Booth's frail hand. On a hope she pressed his palm against her stomach. "This is your daughter," she told him. "This is why you have to hold on. We're what you're living for."

For the first time he looked at her with recognition. His hand tented, his fingernails prodding all along the bump that had formed. A question appeared in his eyes.

"Soon." She told him. "And she's healthy. She's perfect."

Again did his eyes close. But his hand remained. Nurses came to finish readying him. Brennan kissed his forehead. Before they took him away she under toned into his ear, "just survive. We'll do the rest."


	65. Rise Above This

**Author's Note: **Special thanks to Mendenbar for pep talking me into getting the next chapter of this done! Lyrics used are "Lift Me Up" by Christina Aguilera.

* * *

_So the pain begins_

_As the music fades_

_And I'm left here with_

_With more than I can take_

Brennan couldn't stop pacing. It was as if her body had taken over all of her systems, including her mind, and perhaps even her free will. Her eyes never left the checkered floor her shoes plodded down against. She was doing all she could not to worry. But with Booth's life literally hanging in balance not more than a mere few rooms away from her, it was near impossible. _Fight, _she mentally willed him. _No matter what happens, you can't give up. _She almost started crying at the thought. But she was quick to stop herself. It wouldn't matter if she did fall apart. There was no one around that she needed to protect her emotions from. But she feared if she did break down that would be the end. There would be no pulling herself back together. She'd gotten through all this by being strong. Faithful, not in God but in Booth. She'd never lose that faith in him, even with the odds stacked so highly against them. "He can make it," she said out loud to no one. "He will. He has to."

* * *

Booth couldn't understand what was going on. Something just wasn't right. He had all his memories. He knew exactly what had happened to him, and what _was_ happening to him. He knew the cancer he'd been fighting was taking his life. And he also knew that the surgery he was currently under was an effort to stop the tumors' effects on his body. But how was it that he felt so strong? For the first time in perhaps years he was pain free. How? Why?

But likely the most important - why was he watching Dr. Merck do surgery on him? How had he gotten outside of his body? "Something's not right." He whispered to himself.

A nurse stood before a monitor being used to keep track of Booth's vitals. When the gradual beeping became more steady, she turned to Dr. Merck. "His pulse is increasing rapidly."

"I'm almost finished."

"His blood pressure-"

"I'm well aware. Thank you."

"But doctor-" She was interrupted again.

Booth watched in horror as his body weakly began the motions of a seizure.

* * *

The baby in Brennan's stomach suddenly began kicking so hard that Brennan bent over with pain. She rubbed against the small feet battering at her. What had gotten into her unborn daughter all of a sudden? She calmed again with Brennan's gentle massaging motion.

When Brennan straightened once again something felt different. Her heart felt as though it were off a beat. She touched her chest. It didn't mean anything, she promised herself. Feelings meant nothing. Booth believed in them. Science was all that ever made sense to her. But she couldn't help feeling, despite her mental insistence to the opposite, that something had gone wrong with Booth. Frantically she looked to the door of the operating room where he'd been taken into so many hours ago. "Booth?" She asked out loud, feeling foolish.

_When the static clears_

_And all is said and done_

_I will realize_

_That we all need someone_

* * *

"He's flat lined!"

"Someone get a crash cart!"

Booth turned away. He didn't want to watch himself die. He took in a few deep breaths. "I can't believe this is happening." His body was shimmering in waves, trying to cloak itself in invisibility. Suddenly, his memory began to erase itself. He struggled to breathe. Though it was fuzzy he heard someone say his name. Groggily he walked out of the room to the voice he heard.

* * *

This time when the baby began her assault on Brennan's insides she couldn't help but to sit down. Tears held themselves steady in her eyes. She protectively wrapped her arms around her belly. She just knew something was wrong. The how didn't matter to her right then. She just _knew. _She'd heard of this sort of phenomenon. There were records of people feeling their loved ones slip away before they had any real knowledge. But she'd never believed in any of it. Until now.

Finally, she could hold it in no longer. With a loud, shaky sob she began to unravel. "Booth." She cried. "Please."

Booth drifted through the door. He stopped just outside and looked to her in confusion. "Bones? Why are you crying? Where are we? What's happening to me?"

She continued to cry, not hearing him, of course. He sat down next to her. Quietly he watched her, feeling like his own heart was being torn from his chest. "Bones? What's wrong? I don't know what's going on. Where are we?"

"You can't…" She looked down to her swollen belly. "I can't do this alone. I don't want to."

"You don't have to." He put his hand over hers. Through her skin he could feel the blood racing through her veins. Beneath that he could sense his daughter kicking at them with all she had. "My baby," he murmured with realization. "We're in the hospital. I'm sick. I'm dying." He turned his attention back to the operating room. "Maybe I'm already dead. But I'm still here." The area where his hand had been had now disappeared. "Mostly."

He was suddenly walloped with her pain and despair. Again he tried to touch her. His hand cupped her cheek. "I'm sorry, Bones. I'm so sorry." He began to cry some himself.

Brennan felt a cool sensation tickling her cheek. She raised her hand to it and held it there.

Booth was amazed. Could she feel him? "I can't give up." He smoothed his other hand across her stomach again. "I can't let this be the end."

_If you lift me up_

_Just get me through this night_

_I know I'll rest tomorrow_

_And I'll be strong enough to try_

* * *

"Doctor, it's been too long. We need to declare time of death."

"Do it again."

"But-"

"Just use the defib again!"

The nurse pressed the deliberator paddles down against the skin on Booth's chest for what seemed like the umpteenth time. The jolt the paddle gave traveled through him at a lightning fast pace. It electrified its way straight into his heart.

No one could quite believe it when the monitor indicated Booth had a pulse once again. Shallowly he breathed, though not well. Dr. Merck immediately set an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. Not a single person in the room said anything. They'd all just witnessed a true miracle.

* * *

Brennan had stopped crying when Dr. Merck emerged from the OR to see her. It was still easy for him to read how upset she was. Judging by the redness in her eyes, and the streaks her eye make up had left on her cheeks, he could see she'd had a real tough time with her emotions. Her shoulders still trembled. She noticed Dr. Merck approaching and rose to her feet. He could see she was attempting to prepare herself for bad news. Once he was face to face with her however, he could see that beneath that coldness there was a woman near begging for hope. He got right down to business. "He made it."

She shut her eyes and exhaled a pent in breath.

"But he's not in the clear yet."

"Something happened to him, didn't it?"

There was no sugar coating it. "Upon finishing surgery he had a grand mal seizure that stopped his heart."

Brennan was sorry she asked. She sniffed back another set of tears.

Dr. Merck softened his demeanor. "He's fighting with all he's got. Any normal man would be dead under these circumstances. He should be." He admitted. "How he came back is a complete mystery to me. It doesn't make any sense."

Brennan simply nodded. Her throat felt so tight she wasn't sure she could speak.

"The next twenty four hours will be pivotal. Once we get him through that we can access what to do for him next."

Twenty four hours. Considering it'd been years, that small time frame seemed like a piece of cake.

* * *

A week later

"I was at the book store, and I found a book of baby names. We really haven't discussed it, and we should. I've circled the ones I think are appropriate. Once you're awake you can read through and make your own selections." Brennan put a book down on Booth's hospital bed just next to his hand. She watched him carefully for any signs. There were none. She was saddened, but none the less determined.

In the week he'd been in ICU she had seen things that had proven to her he was listening. His fingers and lips had both twitched. She'd even found him smiling a little just once. He was in there, though he still hadn't woken from his brush with death.

Shelley had reasoned he was saving up his strength. Brennan dismissed such a silly notion. Booth _was _getting stronger, according to Dr. Merck. He took a small steps at a time. But it wasn't the size of the steps so much, as it was seeing he was on the journey back to health. His journey was due to be a long one. There was no saying if the cure she'd injected into his body had worked. Every month for the first year Booth would have to report back to a doctor to track his progress, and be sure no new tumors had formed. It was an inconvenience they could deal with.

Not to say he still didn't have his problems. His breathing was still weak. He wasn't bringing nearly enough oxygen into his body as he should have been. His low weight was still a large factor battling against him. His life was partially depending on machines. This bothered Brennan more than she let on.

She was gazing down at the mattress in thought when she heard a clicking noise. Her eyes snapped up to attention. Booth's lips were moving. He appeared to be trying to form words. Brennan stood and leaned in closer. She tightly held onto his hand. "Booth?"

His eyes cracked a slit, before flittering open. He looked straight on at her, expressionless.

"Booth?" She questioned. Did he know her? Had his memory been damaged somehow? She didn't think twice about pressing her lips against his, tenderly kissing him. Relief set in when she felt him kiss her back with what strength he had. "Hi," she both laughed and cried at the same time when she pulled back.

His eyes sparkled back at her.

_So when you see me crashing_

_And there's nowhere left to fall_

_Will you lift me even higher_

_To rise above this all_

* * *

**Author's Note (part two): **Despite what it looks like, this isn't the end. :)


	66. Who Knows Best

For the first few days following Booth's surgery he spent near all his time sleeping. Though he'd wake immediately when stirred, his only interest was in resting. Dr. Merck and Shelley were both quick in assuring Brennan this was normal, especially following a near death experience. "His body is recovering from both the surgery and the trauma it went through," Dr. Merck explained during one of his visits in Booth's hospital room.

Brennan nodded. Her eyes stayed trained on his sleeping face. "When can I take him home?"

Dr. Merck stared at her. "I'm sorry, but are you serious?"

"Yes." She nodded confidently. "Booth will recover at a much faster rate in the comfort of his own home."

"Dr. Brennan, I don't think you understand the seriousness of this situation." The good doctor snapped back. "He nearly lost his life just a week ago and you're already making plans for him to return home? He no where near meets what I require for him to be able to be released."

Brennan wasn't the least bit intimidated. "What are the very minimum requirements?"

Dr. Merck was silent. He seemed to be mulling over her question. "The very least? He's still fifteen pounds underweight. He needs to be just ten or less before I'll even consider releasing him."

She could appreciate the challenge. Now that he was in the clear she was likely to get him to eat again. Fluids were keeping him alive, but doing nothing for his weight. Whatever it took, she'd see to it that he'd begin replacing mass. "Okay."

However, she didn't plan on Booth being uncooperative. Once he received the permission to start eating solid food again Brennan embarked on her mission. While he slept she ordered him the most fattening foods she could find on the menu available to them. Booth woke to a sea of food placed before him. "Bones?" He looked all around him. "What is this? What did you do?"

"In order for you to be discharged you have to gain weight." She patiently explained.

"So you ordered the entire cafeteria?" He took the plastic covering off a plate. A scented steam wafted into the air. Booth wrinkled his nose. "It doesn't even smell good." He turned back onto his side and closed his eyes.

"Booth, eat."

"I'm not hungry." He muttered into his pillow.

"Eat."

"_You_ eat it."

"I already ate." She exhaled. "Booth, come on!"

"Nope." He was already falling back asleep.

His disinterest in food continued on. She had to fight with him to get him to eat anything. Anything he ate, be it a muffin or a cup of yogurt felt like a victory to her. She just didn't understand what he was thinking. Finally, in desperation, she approached Dr. Merck. "I think you should x ray Booth's stomach."

"Why?"

"I'm afraid he has a tumor. He won't eat."

Dr. Merck flashed a rare smile. "I doubt that's the reason, Dr. Brennan."

She stood firm. "I want scans done."

The hospital staff did as asked. Repeatedly. Anytime Booth so much as sneezed she arranged for a doctor to see him, or an updated image to be done. Of course, every test they performed on him turned up nothing. Booth was well into the process of healing. Granted it was still early, but so far no new tumors had erupted. Yet that didn't stop Brennan from panicking any time he had some sort of new symptom.

After a week passed friends began coming by to visit. The interaction seemed to do him well. Brennan began to once again see the Booth she thought she'd ultimately lost. And she wasn't the only one. His friends were noticing changes as well.

"Sweetie, he looks so much better." Angela pulled Brennan just outside of Booth's room.

"Really?" It was hard for Brennan to tell, considering she was always around him.

"Yes. He looks almost normal again."

She wasn't sure what to think. When they stepped back into the room Brennan hung back. She tried to look at Booth through new eyes; to compare him to what she had known for so long. The bandage was finally gone from his head. His hair had begun to grow back. An inch of soft, downy brown hair covered his scalp and hid his awful incision scar. The color in his features wasn't quite back to normal, but still carried on a healthier glow. However, it was his eyes that stole the show. They sparkled with relief, and seemed to rewind time.

They both were equally surprised when A.D. Hacker, Booth's boss at the FBI, came to visit him. Brennan stayed in the background while the two men carried a brief casual conversation. Though Booth enjoyed having company he tired out easily. Sure enough, after about ten minutes he looked ready to fall asleep sitting up. Hacker took the hint. He said his goodbyes. As he was heading out the door Booth called after him tiredly, "I'll see you in a few months!"

Hacker stopped. Brennan froze. The two shared a glance. Booth wasn't seriously thinking about going back to work. Was he? She chose in that moment not to ask him. Eventually, she might. But she decided then and there to chalk it up to exhausted delirium.

Despite all the positive progress Booth's anorexia continued. Brennan was displeased to learn that in three weeks Booth hadn't put on much more than two pounds. "Why won't you eat?" She tried asking him. "You're never going to be allowed to leave if you don't, Booth."

He didn't give her much of a response. He really didn't even look at her.

"Isn't that what you want? Don't you want to go home?"

Like a child he merely nodded.

She sighed in frustration. This simply wasn't working. To Hell with what Dr. Merck thought. Booth needed the comforts of home. If he wasn't willing to release him then she'd just have to go over him. Yet she did begin her plan with him first. "I want Booth discharged," she announced, standing in his office.

Dr. Merck didn't look up from his paperwork. "He's only gained-"

"I'm aware. But he's improving. I think it's only fair to let him continue the rest of his recovery process at home."

Dr. Merck let a long silence stretch out between them. Finally, he spoke. "I've heard you're a woman who get what she wants."

Brennan threw her shoulders back proudly. Dr. Merck rose from his desk. "I have to ask, though. You're what, six months pregnant?"

"Seven. What does that have to do with it?"

"He needs a lot of taking care of. Pretty soon your time is going to be consumed elsewhere."

Brennan's arms immediately went to the mound that was her stomach. "No. I will work it out. He needs to come home. I will sign him out AMA if I have to."

Back down into his chair Dr. Merck placed himself. "You will, then. Because I'm not willingly letting him go."

The two stared each other down. Neither one was willing to be the first to cave. Both were positive they had Booth's best interests at heart. And while Dr. Merck feared what would physically happen to Booth if he went home, Brennan feared what would emotionally happen to him if he stayed. Booth was at a great crossroads. His situation, his life, needed to be handled delicately.

"I'll go have the paperwork drawn." Brennan bit once she realized for sure she would receive no support from Dr. Merck. She marched back out of his office with tears in her eyes. _Pregnancy hormones, _she thought with a deep breath. The truth was, she was frightened. Logically her plan made sense. But Booth quite often defied her sense of logic.

She worried she was about to make a big mistake.


	67. Underneath It All

**One month later**

"Well, Booth. I'd say I'm pretty pleased with how things have turned out. Aren't you?"

"There's still some things we need. Like, electricity, for instance."

"I promise to call the electric company tomorrow."

"And the cable? It's killing me I can't see the Flyers game."

Brennan tried not to roll her eyes. Men. So dramatic. She looked across the coffee table at her husband. The two were sitting on the floor having dinner Japanese style. Their only light was provided by lit candle sticks. "Yes. Although you certainly are capable of making some phone calls yourself."

There was so much that needed to be done, with little time to do it. The past month seemed to have flown by. With Booth at long last well, and Brennan's pregnancy progressing more and more every day, they both realized together that there were several matters that needed to be taken care of. There were numerous things that had been forgotten in the path of Booth's illness. Their first focus: buying a house.

Since they had little time before the baby was to be born they chose to purchase the house they'd toured months ago. That same week they called movers and made arrangements for items from both of their apartments to be transferred. Most of Booth's things were going down into the basement. Brennan had given him full permission to do whatever he wanted with the area. He hadn't said much about it but she knew he had plans in mind.

In all their planning they'd forgotten on some of the simpler things, such as electricity. Instead of going back to their empty apartment for the evening they'd opted to stay over and make the best of things. They'd ordered Chinese food, and settled themselves in.

"I know." Booth spooned a fork full of rice into his mouth. Brennan watched on, content. Ever since he'd come home from the hospital she'd been keeping her eyes on him like a hawk. For the first week he'd continued to do nothing but sleep. He just had no energy to drag himself out of bed. For hours Brennan had sat with him, nervously observing him and questioning her decision to bring him home. Then one afternoon he'd woken and risen out of bed as though he'd just been laying down for a nap. He'd taken a long hot shower before returning to her. She'd held onto him tightly. Neither had spoken a word.

Their biggest problem was getting Booth back to normal eating habits. He still shunned food at every given chance. Brennan couldn't get a conversation going with him as to why. He never responded to her. Sometimes he went so far as to avoid it he left the room. Some occasions though, she had some luck. Such as it was that evening. He hadn't eaten much. But he was trying, and for that she was appreciative.

Over all though he seemed to be doing well. There was no talk of his sickness, or of Amanda. He was relaxed and comfortable with women. He hadn't had a single nightmare since coming home. Most importantly, his first post surgery check up had given them proof that no new tumors had formed in his body. His cure had seemed to be a cure all for everything.

"At least the bed is here."

He beamed. "The first night in our bed in our new home."

"You're being sentimental."

"Come on, Bones. Be sappy with me."

"I'd prefer to be me, not sticky syrup."

He chuckled. After another bite he pushed his plate away. He rose to his feet. Brennan frowned. She'd wished he'd consumed more. But some was better than nothing. "Where are you going?"

"I want to get some work done in the nursery."

"How? Booth, it's dark. Besides," she reached across the table. Up in the air she held a plastic wrapped package. "You didn't open your fortune cookie." That was Booth's most favorite part of Chinese food. "They only gave us one."

He sat back down on the floor next to her. "Okay. Then we open it together. I'll take an end and you take the other." He removed it from the wrapper. They both gripped the edges. On the count of three they broke it open like it was a wish bone. The small slip of paper inside floated onto the floor. Brennan nibbled at the cookie. Booth picked up the fortune and read it out loud. "There will be trouble, but you will have a blessed life."

"It doesn't say that!" Brennan insisted indignantly.

"Yes, it does!" He handed it to her for proof. Sure enough, the words were written clearly. Then again, it was hard to take it seriously with the "Chinese lottery numbers" printed in red beneath it. Booth grinned deviously. "Still don't believe in fate?"

"A piece of paper from a cookie doesn't prove anything."

Booth sat up once again. He stretched. "If it's too dark to work then I'm going to go change. I'll be right back."

"No. Stay up there. I'll come up. I'm pretty tired."

Booth nodded. She watched him take the stairs one by one at a rapid pace. It was something he wouldn't have been able to do a month ago. She waited until he was gone before struggling to stand up. She ambled into the kitchen. The fortune was still folded in her hand. And while she didn't believe in luck or fate, she still pinned the fortune to the refrigerator.

It took her twice as long to get upstairs. Booth was already waiting in bed for her. She was out of breath when she sat down next to him. She grimaced as the baby kicked. Some days it felt as though her body was just one giant ache. Her feet hurt, and were swollen. Her back hurt. Her stomach hurt often from the baby sloshing around. By now in her pregnancy it was hard for her to find a comfortable position to sleep in at night.

"You okay?" He asked gently.

She hated admitting the truth to him. Her pain seemed like nothing compared to what he'd been through. "My muscles are just very tender."

He threw the blankets back and sat up. "Where?"

"My back. My feet."

He set work rubbing his hands across the muscles in her back. She relaxed underneath his touch. He seemed to know all the right moves, and all the right places to hit. He bowed his head and kissed the back of her neck. Her hormones surged. She wanted him and yet felt like crying at the same time. Deeply she inhaled to steady herself.

"What is it?" He whispered, his warm breath tickling her neck.

She didn't know how to put into words what she felt. So she turned around and kissed him. He was caught off guard. But he kissed her back just as passionately.

"I love you."

"I love you too, Bones."

She laid back against the fluffy pillows that bordered their headboard. Delicately she tugged him down next to her. He pulled the comforter up over the two of them. They fell into a soft sleep in one another's arms.

* * *

Booth didn't know why he woke. He only knew something yanked him roughly out from the deep sleep he'd been in. Awake he laid, staring at his wife's peaceful face as she slept. His heart beat frantically in his chest. He closed his eyes and tried to think. Had he been having a nightmare? If he had he couldn't remember it. Wouldn't he have, if he was?

Suddenly a bright light flashed in his eyes. It turned their bedroom into a strobe light for a mere few seconds before it stopped. The windows and floor soon vibrated with the sound of thunder. Hard rain pelted the window panes. Booth's breaths came faster. A thunderstorm.

_Amanda's face loomed over his. He struggled against the handcuffs restraining what were already seemingly dead appendages. She made him watch as she lit up a piece of metal with a common cigarette lighter. Then she near ripped his shirt up over his stomach. The metal lowered to his skin._

Booth pushed himself out of bed. He left Brennan sleeping, careful not to disturb her. Thunder struck again as he went back downstairs. The remains of their dinner still lay strewn out on the coffee table. To busy his mind he began cleaning. He threw out the trash, and wiped everything down with a rag. But the distraction did him no good. As the storm raged on his shoulders trembled with fright.

_Booth hollered, despite his silent promise to himself that he wouldn't. He couldn't hardly breathe by the time she threw the poker away from them. Weakly he saw her pick up a plastic bottle of some sort of solution. She grinned wickedly. "Wouldn't want this to get infected now, would we?"_

Booth collapsed down onto the couch. He took a blanket and wrapped it around himself. _No. This isn't supposed to happen. _He breathed through his teeth as he rocked himself back and forth. _I'm supposed to be over this. _Tears were in his eyes. He looked out the window. "I'm supposed to be over this." He repeated his thoughts out loud.

But obviously he wasn't. His body may have been healing from the damage Amanda had inflicted. But his mind still had a ways to go.


	68. It's Not Over

Brennan was perplexed to wake up alone. With her eyes closed she smoothed her arm over the area where Booth should have been. When all she felt was the coolness of sheets that had been long ago left behind, she opened her eyes. From what she could tell Booth had been gone for hours. Where had he gone? Why? She climbed out of bed. She wandered midway downstairs to find him asleep on the couch. A blanket was hanging loosely from his body. He was tipped to one side, as though he'd fallen that way. His feet were still on the floor. She could only imagine how his back was going to feel once he woke. Right now though she'd leave him undisturbed.

She took a shower. The warm water soothed the rest of the aches away that Booth hadn't gotten to. She found herself wishing he was there in the shower with her to finish what they'd started last night. A warm flush crept over her cheeks. Weeks away from labor and she was already fantasizing about what she would do with Booth when they could resume a sexual relationship again.

After drying and dressing she headed back downstairs. Booth was still sleeping. He breathed deep and evenly, suggesting to her that he was really out. She wouldn't wake him. She left him a note and with a kiss on his cheek, headed out to the Jeffersonian.

Being as pregnant as she was she wasn't able to physically work anymore. But with Booth in the clear she permitted her office to be a private sanctuary. For a few hours a day she went to work to keep up on simple office duties. Yes, it was work she could have done from home. But she had come to the conclusion that time alone, however brief, was good for the both of them.

Two hours passed by while she kept herself immersed in work. She answered emails, which were mostly consultation messages. She made various phone calls concerning the new house. The electricity was connected. The cable company would be coming in a matter of days to hook them up. By the time she was finished she felt satisfied. She stood from her chair and threw her coat over her arm. Just as she was about to leave Sweets walked in. She frowned at him in annoyance.

"About to leave, Dr. Brennan?"

"Yes. I'm returning home to Booth."

"Good. I'm glad I caught you before you left. It's Agent Booth I wanted to speak to you about."

Her irritation twinged again. "What about him?"

"How has he been?"

She told him quickly of how their life had been for the past month. Sweets listened studiously. "It's good to hear he's been doing well." He said when she finished. "I'd like to speak with him myself."

"You could come over some time-"

"In my office."

She knew he was subtly attempting to get Booth to come in for therapy. Well, she would have none of it. Booth was fine. There was no need to drag up past demons. "No."

Sweets appeared as though he'd been expecting resistance. "Dr. Brennan, I hear you. He's doing well. But he's never dealt with all that he experienced during his abduction. The minute he got sick the attention shifted to his cancer. Eventually those repressed and forgotten feelings and memories are going to come back. By getting a head start on it-"

"No. He's doing fine. He doesn't need you meddling in his business."

"You're protective, I understand."

"Then back off." She stomped by him. On the way back to her car she tried to walk off some of her anger. Sweets would be getting no where near Booth. Not when things were going well. Not when Booth was getting healthy.

Not when he was becoming "Booth" again. Or so she thought.

* * *

_Booth was so sedated he didn't know which way was up or down. He could barely hold his eyes open. It'd been three days since he'd had food or water. Or so he thought. Days were marked by his periods of sleep. Three long sleeps had to mean it'd been three days. Since he couldn't really tell the difference between day and night time now revolved on his own schedule._

_The door overhead opened and slammed closed with force. He shut his eyes tightly. Damn. Couldn't she ever leave him alone for more than a few hours at a time? On the way down she muttered furiously to herself. "I can't believe they passed me over for a promotion. What does that little bitch have that I don't? I could do that job with my eyes closed. It should have gone to me!" Her footsteps were hard and angry. He knew he was in for a rough time. _

_Without saying a word she wrestled him onto his back. She pulled at the zipper on his pants. They both knew what she wanted. And she wanted it now. Weakly he tried raising a knee to block her. His strength was already almost tapped out. There was little he could do to prevent her. Not like it mattered much anyway, he reasoned. She always got what she wanted, no matter what._

"_Don't fight me!" She screamed at him. He knew he shouldn't provoke her. But again when she yanked at him he tried to twist away from her. She grabbed a hold of him, lifting him a few inches off the floor before slamming him back down. "Get the hint?"_

_Pain shot through his head. It wasn't enough to deter him, however. On her third attempt she managed to remove his pants from his hips. He kicked out before she could get any further. She tumbled backwards onto the floor. An enraged scream sounded out in the air like a siren._

_Booth was readjusting his pants when he felt her rush at him. Something sharp entered his side. A knife. His muscles stiffened in pain. He silently cried when she removed the utensil from his flesh. Blood leaked out onto the floor at a rapid pace._

"_Oh, shit." She whispered._

That memory faded away to the present. Booth was standing over a puddle of red paint. Since waking up he'd gotten to work in the nursery. In painting the walls he'd accidentally knocked over a bucket. He'd caught sight of the color and frozen in place. Blood. So much blood. Abruptly he began to pant. A fierce pain tore into his side. He collapsed down onto the floor. Tightly he shut his eyes as the worst of a new panic attack seized him.

_I can't do this. I don't have time. Bones and the baby are depending on me! _He coughed, unable to breathe. _Bones will be home soon. She can't find me like this. She'll worry. She can't worry about me when she's this close to going into labor! _His face was turning red and heating up like a sun lamp. _This isn't supposed to happen, damn it! I'm better! _He couldn't argue that his mind was telling him otherwise.

_This isn't fair, _was his last thought before passing out.

* * *

He woke up some time later shivering. He continued to lay on the blue plastic tarp he'd set out on the floor to protect it from any paint drips. Quietly, he listened. There were no other noises in the house besides the sound of his shallow breathing. Brennan wasn't home yet. He was in the clear.

The material crinkled beneath him as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. He put his head in his hands. All around him he felt like the world was spinning. His stomach churned. If he'd eaten anything he was sure he would have vomited. _Breathe easy, _he advised himself. _You have to get yourself under control before Bones gets home._

Several minutes passed by, and he had yet to feel any stronger. He managed to struggle from the nursery into the bedroom. If he was laying in bed sleeping Brennan wouldn't suspect anything. The same couldn't be said for the floor.

Booth near melted into the soft mattress. His gaze fell onto the ceiling, and stayed there. While he laid he mentally made important decisions. Brennan couldn't ever know he had another panic attack. Or any, for that matter, since he was sure this was the first in what was to be many. Brennan needed to stay focused on herself. She'd selflessly given up her life to take care of him. Now he needed to be able to be a man and do the same for her.

It wasn't just her._ No one_ could know about this. His ultimate dream was getting back to work at the FBI. It was a dream he was determined to achieve. But if anyone knew he was still besieged with problems he wouldn't be let anywhere near a government building. That couldn't happen.

With clenched eyes he tried to still his heart and mind. He found himself craving a dose of the sedative he was addicted to, and then hating himself for it. But damn if he just didn't want the feelings to go away. _But what if they don't? What if I'm like this for the rest of my life? _His eyes popped back open. His heart began pounding all over again. _Then I'll pretend… for the rest of my life._


	69. Oh Baby

Ultimately, Booth's hunch turned out to be right. Every day he seemed to come across something that triggered a panic attack. He was lucky in that Brennan was rarely around during these times. Usually he was working on his own in the nursery when a memory would strike him from no where. In the end he'd wake up on the floor, feeling like a cement truck had driven over his chest. In the few times he'd suffered one while Brennan had been around he'd been quick to excuse himself. More than once he locked himself in the bathroom. So as not to arouse suspicion he'd run the faucet in either the sink or the bathtub. Brennan would look at him oddly when he emerged. But she didn't question him.

One afternoon he was laying still on the couch, watching a hockey game featuring two teams he had only minor interest in. But there was nothing else on, and he needed to relax. That morning he'd gone running for the first time in months. If he intended on getting back to work then he needed to build back up his muscles and stamina. He hadn't been able to get too far before he felt ready to collapse. The cancer, surgery, anorexia, and just basic abusing himself had all taken their toll on him. He realized he was going to have to work a lot harder than he thought.

From seemingly no where Brennan appeared. She stood in front of the television with a book in her hand. A frown marred her pretty face. He said nothing, but raised an eyebrow. She took that as her cue to speak. "You haven't circled any names, Booth. She's due in a matter of weeks and she's still nameless!"

He raised his head off of his pillow. "Take it easy."

She appeared ready to cry. "Are you not excited for our child?"

_Pregnancy hormones. _"Of course I am!"

"Then why haven't you looked?"

"Because I already know what name I want!" He blurted. Immediately he cringed. The name he had in mind was one he wanted to spring on her slowly. He wasn't sure how she'd feel about it.

Her features softened. "Then tell me." She noticed him hesitate. She took a seat next to him on the couch. "Booth? What is it?"

He chewed on his bottom lip. "Alyssa Joy."

She blinked. "Joy? That was… my name."

He nodded. "And Alyssa was my mother's." Quietly, he added. Brennan was shocked. She could count on one hand the number of times Booth talked about his mother. She knew his father was an alcoholic with whom he hadn't had contact with in years. But all she knew about his mother was that she'd written jingles for the radio. "Was?" Her voice trembled.

"She died. When I was six." He cleared his throat. "Car accident."

Brennan gripped Booth's hand. No wonder he'd never talked about it. "Alyssa Joy." She repeated. "I like it."

He smiled genuinely. "Really?"

"Yes." She kissed him. "It will be perfect. She'll be perfect."

* * *

The next few weeks were filled with nothing but preparation. Despite the numerous setbacks Booth managed to get the nursery completely finished. Brennan was tearful when he took her inside to see it for the first time. She held onto his hand. Not a word passed her lips as she poked and prodded different items and pieces of furniture he'd assembled. The walls were a carnation pink color with red trim. The crib, as well as other pieces of furniture matched perfectly. What drew Brennan in however, was an old, worn rocking chair sitting off in a corner next to a window. She let go of his hand to take a closer look. Up close she could definitely see it'd had years of use. Questioningly, she looked at him. She had a feeling she already knew who it had one time belonged to.

"I had to get that from Pops out of storage."

"Your mother's," she whispered, running a finger over one of the arms. Booth joined her. "She rocked me and Jared in this. When Parker was born Rebecca used it. When he got to be too old for it and we were no longer together, she gave it back to me." He slid an arm around her. "And now its ours."

"Booth." She leaned into him. Quiet, happy tears fell down her cheeks. "It's… it's amazing."

He kissed her. She embraced him, pulling him as tightly to her as she could. _This baby is going to be so fortunate, _she couldn't help but to think. She was thankful that he'd gotten through his tribulations to live these moments with her. As the pregnancy had gone on she'd seen more and more how much she needed him; how hard it would have been to go on and raise his child without him. It was a possibility she no longer cared to think about. As long as Booth was well, she could progress forward.

If only she knew the secrets he was keeping.

Later on that evening she woke up alone. At first she wondered where Booth had gone. But then a more pressing matter came to mind. Her stomach twisted, aching with pain. She felt dizzy. And worst of all, she felt nauseous. Carefully she sat herself up. Immediately she wished she hadn't. In doing so she only felt worse. "Booth?" She called out for him. Where could he have gone? Why wasn't he in bed with her? He'd started off there. Gingerly she eased herself out of the room. "Booth?" She tried again. Her words were choked as bile rose to the back of her throat. She knew then she needed to worry about Booth later.

She made it into the bathroom just before she was violently ill. The sickness didn't seem to stop. She'd finish vomiting before starting up once again. Soon she felt someone stroke her hair away from her face. "It's all right, Bones." Booth told her softly.

"Something's wrong." She cried.

Once she finally finished he sat her down on the edge of the bath tub. He wetted a wash cloth and gently wiped the sweat off her face and neck. His care was comforting, but she was still frightened. "Booth, what if something's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." He promised. "It's just the stomach flu. It happens."

"But I'm pregnant."

"You know that doesn't make you immune. Come on." He helped her up to her feet. Back in the bedroom he laid her down in their bed. Briefly he left her, journeying down to the kitchen and bringing her soda and crackers. "Just eat slow."

"I don't feel like eating at all."

"Then at least sip the Sprite." He insisted. "You don't need to get dehydrated."

She took a small drink. "What if it's not the flu? What if something's wrong with the baby?"

"I'll call the doctor. But I promise," he sat down next to her. "Nothing's wrong. Just try to relax."

"I feel awful."

"I know." He kissed her forehead. "I'm sorry."

Until she fell asleep he stayed with her. He made sure she continued to drink, and managed to convince her to eat a few crackers. In the morning he would call her doctor as promised. But he knew the stomach flu when he saw it. He didn't blame her though for panicking.

Once she was asleep he left her once again. Downstairs he tip toed back to the bed he'd made out of the couch. Every night he was wracked with horrible, heart stopping nightmares. Memories. He wanted Brennan to go on believing he was recovering. Hell, _he_ wanted to believe it, too. To keep up the charade he laid with her in bed at night until she fell asleep. Then he spent a few hours on the couch where he was free to toss and turn and cry without worrying about being discovered. Just before dawn he'd return, laying awake while pretending to be asleep. It was ridiculous. But as far as he was concerned it was what he had to do to survive this new life of his.

In between the blankets he folded up his body. He tried to relax, but he felt wound up. Before Brennan had cried out for him he'd been having another bad dream. Amanda had thrown a towel over his face and poured water on him, making him feel as though he'd been drowning. Suffocating.

Onto his back he rolled. His desire for sedatives was becoming stronger every day as the mental game of torture played itself out. He'd always considered himself strong. But having a taste of what life was like without the anxiety and fear was enough to seduce him. He wondered how much longer he could keep going. How much more could he take before he was driven to cross the line and do something illegal to obtain the relief he needed? It wasn't as though he could ask Sweets for them. That would go straight back to the FBI, and disqualify him from working.

The thought of sweet relief was still on his mind as he drifted off. Rudely he was shaken away some hours later. He grunted, "what, Bones?"

"Something's wrong. This isn't just the flu."

"Then what is it?" He slurred.

"I think I just had a contraction."


	70. False Pretenses

"Actually, it_ is_ just the stomach flu."

Brennan stared at the doctor speaking before her in shock. This man was not her usual physician. He was just the obstetrician who happened to be on call when Booth brought her into the emergency room. She tried hard to keep her patience; to not scream "foul!" and demand her own doctor to be paged. "But I felt a contraction. The walls in my uterus-"

"It was likely brought on by the vomiting. It's no more than Braxton Hicks."

"Braxton Hicks!" Brennan repeated, clearly insulted. She looked to Booth who hadn't said a word since he'd arrived after parking the car. She couldn't tell what was going on with him. But she wished he'd get angry. "It's not Braxton Hicks!"

"Dr. Brennan, you are showing no other signs of labor. You're not even the slightest bit dilated. We're going to keep you here to run some fluids through your system. Then we're going to send you home. I'm going to place you on bed rest until you go into labor. Under no circumstances do I want you out of bed unless it's to relieve yourself."

This conversation was getting worse and worse. "I can't do that." Her gaze again fell to Booth. Who would take care of him if she was bed ridden?

Booth felt her eyes on him. He seemed to instantly know her thoughts. Just as briefly as he'd looked at her he averted his eyes back to the doctor. Something altered in his physical appearance, though what, she didn't know. She couldn't place it. But she could tell he was offended. Brennan felt guilty, but knew in her heart she was right.

"It's important that you do, for both your health and your baby's health." The doctor said no more. He left just as a nurse arrived carrying a cart with fluid bags and various other supplies. Booth and Brennan were silent while the nurse put a needle into a vein in her arm, and began dripping liquid down through a small rubber tube. Even after she was gone nothing was said. The tension between them was thick. "Booth-" Brennan began.

"So that's it, huh? I can't take care of myself so how could I possibly take care of you?" He interrupted her.

"Booth, that's not what I meant." That was exactly what she meant. "You just beat cancer. You're still recovering."

"I'm doing fine," he growled through clenched teeth.

"Fine?" Now she herself was beginning to lose her temper. "Fine? Booth, I can't even get you to eat a full meal."

"That's what this is about? Eating? No. You think I'm inept." He glared at her. "Just say it."

She kept her mouth clamped shut. Booth's angered expression transitioned into a look she had an even harder time dealing with. Hurt. "Right," he whispered. He turned his back on her and headed for the door.

"Booth? Where are you going?"

"I'm talking a walk. I think I'm capable of that." He didn't so much as glance back before shuffling out. Brennan sighed sadly. There was no way to relay to him the amount in which she worried. Yes, she knew he was better. But trying to bounce back from life saving surgery on top of taking care of someone who was nearly nine months pregnant was a lot for anyone to handle. Perhaps she hadn't explained it well enough. All she knew was that she'd injured him emotionally. The thought crushed her heart.

Meanwhile, Booth stalked like a wild panther straight outside into the hospital parking lot. He sat down on a bench just out front. He put his head into his hands. A sudden headache sprung up. He grit his teeth, doing his best to just deal with it. The screaming ambulances that raced by every few minutes on their way into the ER bay didn't help.

He felt sad, and wounded. Didn't Brennan trust him? How could she not? He'd been so careful to conceal any and all lingering problems he was having. To the world he was an incredible superman who was at long last returning to the life that had been ripped away from him years ago. He'd never given anyone any reason to think otherwise. So why didn't she think he could do what needed to be done? Hadn't he always done it before?

_That was before… everything. Face it. Amanda made you useless. _He squeezed his eyes shut. _No. I won't let her. I can do this. I can do anything. _Into his lungs he drew in a deep breath. Slowly he released it. The therapeutic technique did nothing for his nerves. He still felt tightly wound up.

_You can do anything? Who do you think you're kidding? You're a waste. _Booth froze. His eyes popped wide open. That voice in his head was not his own. "Amanda?" He whispered out loud. His body turned ice cold. A headache. Hearing voices. Was he developing another brain tumor? It couldn't be. He'd just had a test done, and everything had been fine. Stress. It had to be post traumatic stress creeping up to bite him once again.

He punched a tightened fist straight down into the bench to relieve some of his aggravation. Was this ever going to end?

* * *

Brennan fell asleep while waiting for Booth to return. Her dreams were surprisingly pleasant. The baby was all she could think about, even in her unconscious. When she woke she found Booth asleep in a chair next to her bed. He was slumped back with his feet sticking out in front of him. His head was bent backwards at a painful angle, allowing a clear view of an incision scar just peeking up over his tugged down shirt collar. His face appeared drawn in the last few twinkles of moonlight before dawn shining through her window. This fight was upsetting him more than he let on. She frowned in sorrow. "Booth?"

His eyes opened at the soft sound of his name. Without lifting his head he simply let his eyes stare into hers, waiting expectantly.

She couldn't help but to be drawn to the scar. Life changed so fast. Was this argument worth it? "I'm sorry. I do believe you can take care of me, and Alyssa once she is born. It's just difficult for me to remember that you are all right now. Since you were rescued…" _I've had to take care of you. _She knew she didn't need to finish that sentence. They both knew what she didn't need to say. "Do you forgive me?"

He nodded.

His silence was disturbing. "Then can you say it?"

His eyes closed again. "I'm just tired, Bones."

So, did he forgive her? Booth was a big believer in communication, as well as eye contact. His answer wasn't what she had been seeking. But she let it go.

He was back asleep within seconds. She watched on.

* * *

"But Mr. Booth, I don't understand. You just had a scan run last week. Everything came back normal."

Booth stood before Dr. York. It was first thing in the morning. He'd shown up in his office just as soon as it opened. Before the doctor had even greeted him Booth had burst out with his gentle demand of having a new set of images run on his brain. It'd been only a few hours since he and Bennan had been released from the hospital. After she was settled in he'd left immediately.

"That was last week."

"Nothing new will show. There's nothing wrong. And honestly if there was, it would take more than a week for something to pop up."

"Come on, doc." He tilted his head a little. His eyes begged.

Dr. York wasn't sure what to make of his behavior. "It's your insurance." He finally muttered.

Since it was early Booth was fit right into the schedule without disrupting any other appointments. He held perfectly still, fighting bouts of panic that nearly rendered him unconscious, while a wand passed back and forth over his body. Once it was over he about bolted from the room. After dressing he waited in the reception area and attempted to catch his breath. His phone rang. He retrieved it from his pocket. Brennan was calling. He'd left as soon as she'd fallen asleep, so no doubt she was wondering where he'd gone.

Booth hadn't told her of his symptoms. He didn't plan to. And so he didn't answer the phone. He chose to ignore her. _Just don't let her be going into labor…_

Some time later Dr. York pulled him back into his office. He had Booth's scans taped up to a light box. He pointed to each one as he spoke. "Each and every one of these gives the clear indication that you are healthy. You have absolutely nothing to be worried about."

Booth took a step forward. He peered at the images for himself. They appeared identical to all the other ones he'd seen.

"Now I don't want to see you back here for a month, you hear me?"

He merely nodded. _It is just stress. Great. Now how do I deal with that? _He mumbled a thank you and strode from his office without another word of rebuttal. Back out in the car he sat himself down. Before he started the ignition he sat a moment. _I need those damn sedatives. But I can't do anything until I get reinstated. _With a closed fist he hit the steering wheel. _I'm never going to get better. I wish Amanda had just killed me. No you don't, _he was quick to argue with himself. In that moment he came upon a realization. It hit him like a sledge hammer to his chest. _Yeah, I do. _

* * *

Author's note: Don't worry, next chapter is going to be happier!


	71. Oh Baby Part Two

Over the course of the following days Booth seemed to travel to another place. His physical body stayed right beside Brennan. He was at her side constantly to bring her anything she needed; to keep his insistent promise that he could take care of her. It seemed to her like she'd given him the desire to prove himself. If their argument had lit a fire within him to proceed forward then she was glad it had taken place. But it seemed to have come with consequences.

By now she'd learned Booth wasn't spending the entire night with her. Nature had called in the early hours one night. She'd woken up to an empty bed. After relieving herself she stood a top of the stairs. Down at the bottom she could see his body sprawled out over the couch. "Booth?"

He'd stirred immediately. "Yeah?" Then, "why aren't you in bed?"

"Why aren't _you_?"

"I couldn't sleep so I came down here to watch television. I'll come back up."

He had, but not before Brennan had noticed that the television hadn't been on.

No matter how close he was, he still seemed so far away. At times he'd stare off into space just like he used to. He'd tense and relax his body alternately. Sometimes all Brennan had to do was say his name and he'd snap out of it. Others, it took a few attempts to call him back.

She was on the phone with Dr. York the following morning after learning of Booth's new sleeping habits. He assured her, just like he assured Booth, that all was fine. Physically, there was nothing wrong with him.

_But there is, _she thought to herself as she hung up the phone.

Her attention was torn in half. Alyssa's due date came and went. Still no baby. Every hour that passed by without a contraction caused her to be more flustered and panicked. "Why aren't I having contractions? She was due two days ago!" She shrieked in frustration at Booth.

"She's not ready yet."

Brennan sniffed. These pregnant emotions were driving her crazy. "_I'm_ ready for her. I've _been_ ready."

Booth had been laying across the couch. He sat up, and motioned her down next to him. She sat down with her back against his chest. Soothingly he rubbed his hands over her back and shoulders. He kissed her ear and nuzzled her affectionately. "It's all right. It's almost over. Remember, your doctor said if she's not here in two days then they'll admit you in the hospital and induce you."

That wasn't something she was seeking to do. But her anxieties were dashed simply in his touch. Booth could relax her like no other. She leaned her head back against his chest. Her eyes closed. He continued massaging her until she fell asleep in his arms. Then he pulled a pillow underneath her head and laid her down. Careful so as not to disturb her he maneuvered himself until he was laying down besides her. His arm rested lightly underneath her stomach, cupping the baby. The soft sound of her breathing relaxed him into his own state of sleep.

Hours went by. Outside a Spring rain storm sprouted. The sound of the drops splattering on the roof and windows did nothing to wake either one of them. However, the first grumble of thunder miles off in the distance woke Booth with a trembling heart. He heaved slightly. _It's just a thunderstorm. It's nothing to get worried about. _He sat up. It wasn't until he pulled his arm away from Brennan that he noticed it was wet. _That's odd. Was I sweating? _He noticed the material on the night gown Brennan had been wearing was wet as well from the abdomen down to her knees. _That's not sweating. _"Bones?" He shook her hand. "Are you all right?"

"Of course. Why?" Her eyes remained closed.

"Because you're… wet…"

"Hmm?" She opened her eyes and sat up. Down at herself she looked. Calmly, she told him, "oh. I believe my water broke."

"What?" He flew off the couch. "Geez, Bones! Why didn't you say something? We need to get you to the hospital! Why didn't you tell me you were having contractions?"

She shrugged back at him. "I thought it was Braxton Hicks."

"Go get your bag so we can get going!" He ushered her up the stairs. He was so focused on her that it didn't even occur to him he was still in a tee shirt and boxers. He threw on a coat and grabbed his car keys. As he set a foot outside lightning blazed across the sky. The sound of thunder sounded like a bomb explosion. Booth hopped back inside. "Great," he muttered, his eyes trained on the sky.

"Aren't you going to get dressed?" Brennan joined him with a duffel bag.

"Huhmm?" He could barely hear her. It was a struggle to keep himself from trembling. He couldn't let his fear hold him back now. Brennan and Alyssa were counting on him to get them to the hospital. His reaction went back to their argument. He was too proud to admit he couldn't take care of her at her time of utmost need.

"You're going in your pajamas?"

Finally he glanced down at himself. He mumbled a swear. Back upstairs he ran, pulling on the first pair of jeans he found. Then he went to her, leading her outside and helping her into his car.

He sat himself behind the wheel. Deeply he inhaled. _You have to do this. You don't get a choice. There's no room to allow yourself to be weak. Now be a man and get her there! _His hand shook as he turned on the ignition. He didn't dare speak as he backed them out of the driveway. His nerves were like steel as he guided them down the street. He felt himself slip off into the mental world of safety he'd built for himself.

"Booth?"

Her voice yanked him back. He shook his head fiercely. The traffic signal he'd stopped for had turned green. He eased the car forward. His breathing was a lot harder than he intended it to be. But in trying to keep his focus on so many things at a time, there was only so much of himself he was able to control.

Brennan shot glances at him every so often. She didn't dare speak to him, to try and steal his concentration. But it didn't matter how hard he was trying. She could see right through him. A contraction made her gasp. She made a shrill sound and wrapped her arms around her stomach.

Booth looked at her with wide eyes. He pressed the accelerator down further towards the floor.

* * *

Time flew by. Brennan was rushed straight into a "pregnancy suite," a posh room designed for women in labor. She was assessed, and determined to be almost completely dilated. Booth was again, shocked. "You slept through that many contractions?"

"I was uncomfortable…"

Brennan's doctor was paged. She arrived just as Brennan was being given the instruction to push. Booth gripped her hand. He stayed right next to her, offering silent words of encouragement all through out the process. And it seemed like in no time at all Brennan was holding a brand new, screaming baby girl in her arms. Unabashedly she cried. Booth shed a few tears himself, both kissing the new mother and his new daughter. "She's amazing, Bones. You're amazing."

She squeezed his hand. "I can't believe…"

"I know." She didn't need words. He already knew. It'd been ten years since the birth of his son. But everything felt brand new all over again being there with Brennan. Just to be standing next to her was enough of a victory. But seeing the life they'd created in the aftermath of such darkness felt like the sweetest win of all.


	72. Promises

In the early morning hours the fan fare began to die down. A bassinet was brought into Brennan's hospital room to allow Alyssa to stay with them. After feeding her for the first time Brennan was given a pain killer to relieve the tension still within her body, and ideally relax her to sleep. It worked. Within minutes of putting the baby back into her bed she was sound asleep.

Booth went to her side. He pulled her blanket up over her, and kissed her forehead. "Thank you," he whispered, though he knew she couldn't hear him. "Thank you for giving us such a gorgeous baby girl." He was thankful for more than that, however. Looking at his daughter eased that darkness that had been rotting his soul. For the first time since he'd returned to Brennan from his year of Hell he wasn't thinking about what had been done to him. There were no memories, no fear. Just a perfect angel reflecting all the good things life had to offer.

Alyssa began to fuss. Booth went to her. He picked her up and held her close in his arms. "None of that." He shushed to her. "Mommy's trying to sleep. See?" He reclined her slightly so she could see Brennan. "You tired her out. You both need your rest." He grinned as she scrunched her nose up at him. He couldn't help himself but to kiss her. Then he sat down in a rocking chair, continuing to hold her protectively close to him. He turned the chair so it faced the parking lot. A sky full of stars shimmered down onto the world. To Booth it looked like a vast, dark ocean of beauty. Slowly he began to sway the two of them back and forth in a steady motion. Alyssa stopped fussing. She cooed happily.

"'Atta girl." He laid his head back against the head rest of the chair. In silence they continued to move. "Things are going to be good for you. I'm going to make sure of that." He promised her. "The world is a great place. It's full of just, possibility and potential. But there's also a lot of evil, and pain. Things to be wary of." He stopped speaking for a moment. When he began again his voice was stronger. "Your dad's kind of messed up right now because of that evil. But I'm trying. I'm going to get back to myself and make you proud of me. I'm already so proud of you." He stroked her forehead with his thumb. Underneath the pink cap covering her head was already thick hair in the exact shade of her father's. In the brief moments she'd had her eyes open, her eyes appeared to be just like Brennan's. Alyssa was due to be the perfect mix of her parents. Booth couldn't wait to see the type of person she was to become.

His eyes were feeling heavy with sleep. Up to his feet he rose. Without disturbing her he laid Alyssa safely back in her bed. Quietly he took off the light coat he'd been wearing, and stepped out of his shoes. Ever so gently he eased himself into Brennan's hospital bed besides her. He'd determined there was enough room for them both, especially since she was curled up on her side. Around her ribs he tenderly laid his arm, holding her close to him. Down next to her head he laid his, nuzzling her neck. It didn't take long before he, too, was off in a deep sleep. No nightmare was to wake him. He was too full of love.

* * *

Though it was an entire day, it felt like just a couple hours before people began arriving to see the exhausted couple. Angela and Hodgins were the first to arrive with Cam in tow. Brennan's best friend was lit up with enough energy and excitement to power everyone in the room. Despite Brennan's protests Angela took picture after picture. "You'll be happy about this later, sweetie."

Booth stayed in the background, content to let his wife and daughter shine in the spot light. Before leaving Angela kissed his cheek. "Congratulations, daddy."

He grinned back at her. Hodgins shook his hand. "Congrats, man. She's beautiful."

Booth stood up taller with pride. "I know," he murmured, staring at both Brennan and Alyssa.

The two then left. Next it was Rebecca, Parker, and Max, Brennan's father who all arrived at the same time. Parker ran to Brennan's side. He stood perfectly still and stared into the bundled blanket she was cradling in her arms.

"That's your new sister," Booth told him.

"This is Alyssa." Brennan lifted her just a bit so he could see. Parker smiled. "She's so small!"

"You were that small once." Booth reminded him. It seemed like only yesterday he'd been in a hospital room similar to this one, holding a newborn baby Parker. He couldn't help but to look to Rebecca. She was staring straight back at him.

Max joined the pair. He stood over Parker. "She's beautiful. She looks just like you."

Brennan beamed up at her father.

Rebecca walked to Booth and stopped next to him. "Parker wanted to come over at four in the morning. He was so excited." She smiled.

They watched Parker continue to interact with Brennan and Alyssa. "He's going to be a good brother."

"Yes. He is." Rebecca cast an eye over him. "You look good."

He laughed heartily. "I don't look _good_, Rebecca."

"You look better," she amended. "Much better than you did in the hospital." Rebecca and Parker had been by to see him shortly after his surgery.

He nodded a little. "Thanks."

Soon their visits wrapped up as well. Max also took several pictures with his cell phone. "I'm texting these to your brother!" He exclaimed as he left. Rebecca and Parker also said their goodbyes. Booth was just heading back to Brennan when Sweets wandered in. He saw the three of them and grinned from ear to ear. "Wow. That's just… wow."

Booth chuckled. "Get closer. Get in here."

Sweets obeyed. "She's just… it seemed like forever and now she's here and…"

"Rendering you incapable of making complete sentences." Brennan said seriously.

The visit extended only for a short while. Brennan was rapidly becoming worn out. Sweets seemed to sense this. Before leaving he asked Booth to join him out in the hallway, away from Brennan. Booth's defenses immediately rose. Anytime Sweets wanted to talk to him alone it only spelled out disaster. It meant Sweets was going to push him into something he didn't want to do.

The young man didn't disappoint. The door was just barely closed before he started. "You look much better."

Booth didn't face him. He kept his gaze trained through the window into the hospital room. "Yeah. I'm doing pretty good."

"Uh huh." He said in his "shrink" way, telling Booth he was focused on what he had to say next. "I'd like you to stop by my office sometime. You know. Just catch up and touch base and see where you're at."

_He wants to bring me in for therapy. No way. _Booth tried to remain civil. "I don't know. Now that Alyssa's here I'm going to be pretty busy."

"Uh huh. I'd like it if you were able to make time. I think it's really important-"

Booth became furious. He really wanted to discuss this now, after everything that had just happened? "Look, Sweets. I'm not coming in. I know what you want, and I'm not doing it."

Sweets wasn't frightened off. "You haven't discussed any of your experiences of your abduction since before you got sick. I'm afraid if we don't deal with this it's going to fester-"

"I'm fine." He cut him off.

Sweets went on like he hadn't heard him. "it will kill you, eventually."

Booth shook his head. "What are you talking about?"

"You already have a history of suicidal behavior. Of impulses."

"So? Look in there. That's what's keeping me going, and will continue to." He tapped his index finger against the window.

"You already have a son, and that didn't stop you." Sweets reminded him. "Agent Booth, the drugs that Amanda injected you with to continously keep you submissive-"

Booth turned his back on him.

"They altered your brain chemistry. I bet you're still depressed. In fact, I'm willing to bet you're craving drugs. I'm willing to bet you're craving them right now."

That familiar pang begging for relief fired up in his heart. _I wasn't till now. Thanks for that._

"You're sick. And it's not a sickness that just goes away, or one you can will away. You were hurt, drugged, and nearly killed."

Booth was reaching his limit. "Enough. I'm not talking about this. Not today. Not ever. But _especially _not today!" How dare he bring this up on what was one of the happiest days of his life!

"I just-"

"No. I'm _not _talking about it, you hear me? Now unless you have something else you'd like to say about my daughter, I'm outta here." He angrily strode back into the hospital room. Behind him he closed the door roughly.

Brennan instantly saw the change in his demeanor. She'd had a bad feeling when Sweets had asked him out into the hall. "What's wrong? What happened?"

He was scowling. He came back to her bedside. "Nothing." The look of anger erased when he saw Alyssa. "Nothing," he repeated, softer.


	73. Something's Wrong

Author's Note: Adult situation. Be advised.

* * *

_Booth was having a hard time concealing his nervousness. His muscles quivered unintentionally. After all this time he couldn't understand why he got so worked up. Years had likely passed since he'd last been out of his dark prison. He knew his captor damn near inside and out. So why could she still get to him? Why was she able to still keep him in such a place of dread?_

_Something tonight was off about her. All the while she tortured him she always spoke to him. Berated him. Convinced him how pathetic he was, and how worthless his life was. She browbeat it into him until he believed it. But tonight she was silent. In the dark he could just slightly see her preparing. She uncapped a syringe and roughly pressed the needle into his arm. It didn't take long before the sedatives took effect. He'd come to be grateful for those drugs. At least when he was under the influence he didn't feel the fear._

_She went about her usual routine of abuse, ending of course with the grand finale. She finished with him, and left him bound. Booth assumed he did something and he was being punished for it. But her behavior still puzzled him. "Is something wrong?" He asked out loud as she walked away. He wasn't sure why he wanted to know, or even why he dared to speak up. Perhaps a combination of both boredom and curiosity?_

_He should have known better. She was back on top of him in a heart beat. "Don't you dare talk to me! You're nothing!" She hit him with a hard object. "You're a waste of oxygen! I don't know why I'm keeping you alive!" Her hardened tone turned into amusement. "Maybe I shouldn't anymore."_

_Booth squirmed. He wished then he could feel terror; could feel more motivated to save himself for what was sure to be the end of him._

_She left him in despair for a few minutes. Then, "no. Who else would I have to play with then? I won't let you die until I'm good and ready." Laughing to herself, she returned upstairs._

* * *

Booth came to still feeling that sense of impending doom. The room was shrinking. He sat up, gasping for air and shivering. His teeth clicked together. Being in bed in a dark bedroom didn't help his anxiety much. He wished to turn on the lamp on the nightstand besides him, but didn't want to wake Brennan. _I can deal with this. I can't believe I let myself fall asleep._

It'd been a month since the couple had arrived home from the hospital with baby Alyssa. During that month there had been quite a lot of changes. Having a baby in the house took a fair amount of adjusting on its own. They both were up at all hours taking care of Alyssa's needs. How ever Booth could help out, he did. If Alyssa didn't need to feed then he was ready and willing to change her diaper. Rock her back to sleep. Hold her while he wandered the house, unable to sleep himself. He did this of course to keep up his charade of demonstrating his healing mentality. But he also wanted to do anything he could for his daughter. The love he felt for her was immeasurable.

It was his lies that had gotten them through the past month. Every morning he'd committed himself to running again. In addition he'd begun to eat more, as well. The results were fantastic. Slowly he was filling out and toning his muscles. Though he still didn't look the way he did before he'd been abducted he was inching closer. That dream of returning to the FBI was becoming a reality.

He pretended to be joyous, yet internally he was still suffering. It'd been months since he'd had a full night of sleep. During the night once Brennan dozed off he still was committed to leaving, spending the rest of the night on the couch downstairs. The nightmares grew worse in their intensity. As a result he was back navigating his way through a severe bout of depression. Sure, around everyone he seemed fine. But at night while he laid awake staring up at the ceiling he couldn't deny how much he wanted the poison Amanda had shot into him. And at the worst of times, he couldn't deny how much he welcomed death. Sweets had been right. Alyssa had been and continued to be a great distraction. But his contorted mind tried to convince him that he was a terrible father; a god awful husband. Everyone was better off without him creating such havoc in their lives.

The lamp on Brennan's side of the bed turned on. "Booth?"

He'd fallen asleep on his own while waiting for her. For tonight his cover was blown. Now he turned his head away from her scrutinizing eyes. The fight to breathe continued.

"Booth, it's okay." Her hands were on him. He couldn't help himself but to tense up. Immediately she let go. "What happened?" He continued to coldly ignore her. Damn it. Why did this have to happen? If he was to continue to pretend for his family then he needed to work harder at it. No more slip ups.

Brennan was growing weary. Much time had passed since he'd woken from a nightmare. "What can I do?" She finally asked in a soft, strained voice.

His back had hunched as his body had stooped over. He opened his eyes and allowed himself to look at her. The light framed and accentuated her beauty. _I need to feel something, Bones. Something besides this. _If he couldn't numb himself then he'd go for the next best thing. Out of seemingly nowhere he kissed her.

Brennan was completely unprepared for his behavior. She worried over what it meant. But as one tender kissed turned into another, followed by another, she relaxed. Okay. This was something she could handle. Obviously what he was seeking was affection. Her passion was something she was able to provide for him.

She let him take things further without any resistance. His actions were slow. Deliberate. Underneath her nightgown his hands slid, pushing the fabric up to her neck to expose her. Then he caressed his way over every inch of her skin. The dilemma of his panic attack was forgotten. Brennan became wrapped up in her desire. Since it'd been months since either one of them had been with each other, it was easy to focus on the way he was tantalizing her. Testing her. He was kissing her hips, his hand in between her legs when she stretched out her hand over his back. All she wanted was to remove his shirt off of his chest. She didn't care about his scars. They meant nothing to her. Not anymore. She just wanted to feel his skin upon hers.

Without breaking concentration he benevolently took her hand and held it. His fingers linked with hers. At the time she took this as a sign of love. Later she would realize it meant something else entirely.

He swept back up, his lips and tongue meeting hers all while his hand continued to work her. He didn't stop until her muscles stiffened and she cried out. Only after she'd completely calmed down did he let himself enter her.

Again, he behaved in a way that wasn't his style. Every other time they'd made love they'd been in a frenzy just to be with one another, and it had showed. His thrusts now were timed, as though he wanted to savor the affair with her. Brennan usually preferred uninhibited and aggressive. But this was some of the hottest sex she'd ever experienced.

He continued, driving her mad over and over again. At last he too reached his limit. Breathless, he laid down besides her and closed his eyes. She pulled his body closer to her and held him. Before laying her head down on his chest she kissed his temple. The sound of his pounding heart played her back to sleep.

* * *

"_Do you realize what you just did?"_

_Yeah. I made love to my wife. So what?_

"_Made love? More like took advantage of."_

…_What are you talking about?_

"_You did to her exactly what I did to you. You took advantage of her. Did she ask for it?"_

_No. She didn't say anything. It's not the same. She didn't tell me to stop._

"_Did you ever tell me to stop?"_

… _She didn't say anything…_

* * *

Though Brennan woke alone in the morning she couldn't have been happier. It didn't occur to her that anything was wrong. Not after the night she'd had. She went to the nursery and plucked Alyssa from her crib. Then she headed downstairs where she found Booth fully dressed in jogging pants and a shirt. He laid sideways across the couch. Open wide were his eyes, and his stare was completely vacant.

"Booth?"

He offered her no response. There was no telling he'd even heard her.

Brennan frowned. She laid Alyssa down in her play pen. Then she went to Booth's side. Over him she bent, laying a hand on his arm. She noticed a few new cuts. Had those been there last night? "Booth."

He jerked to life. His body shuddered straight off the couch. In seconds he was on his feet and backing away from her. "Good morning." He stammered.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. You just scared me. That's all." He smiled, but she could see it was fake. His eyes gave him away. He was frightened. Of her?

"No. You're lying." To prove her point she took a step towards him. He shied away another. "Tell me why."

He moved towards the door. "I need to go for my run."

She followed. A part of her was afraid to let him out the door. Overnight something had happened to him. That much was obvious. "Booth, no."

"I'll be back in a little while." His hand was on the door knob. Away from her he was turned. She approached. "Booth," she put a hand on his shoulder. Not only did he become rigid, he shook so terribly Brennan thought for a brief moment he was erupting into a seizure.

"I gotta go," he insisted in a strange voice. Out the door he was gone. Brennan stood still in complete and utter shock. Where had this come from? He'd been fine. Hadn't he? Fine or not, something had gone wrong. "No." She told the door in a fierce voice. Upstairs she dressed, not bothering with a shower and throwing on the first outfit she found. After she fed and dressed Alyssa she headed out to her car.

* * *

Sweets was typing on the computer in his office located in the bureau when Brennan burst in. He was turning around while she was marching her way towards him. Despite her disruptive actions, there was cold fear in her teary eyes. "Something's wrong with Booth."


	74. Stumbling

Sweets had been expecting this. It'd taken longer than he'd thought. Whether that was good or bad, he wasn't sure. Denial was a tricky thing. He rose to his feet. "Why do you think that?"

"He was…" she didn't begin to know how to relay his behavior. "He woke from a nightmare and he…" _had the most amazing go around with me. _She blinked.

"Yes?"

_It was amazing. But at the same time it wasn't him. _"He's not himself. I don't recognize him. Overnight I feel as though he changed. This morning he was demonstrating behavior I haven't seen him display since before the brain tumors." Her heart skipped a beat. "You don't suppose…could he be sick again?"

"I don't think so. At least, not that kind of sick."

"There were cuts on his arm. He was hurting himself." She realized in a dazed voice. "What's happening to him?"

"Exactly what I said would happen. Dr. Brennan, he's cut himself off from his emotions. He hasn't been allowing himself to grieve. To deal. His wounds aren't ones you can just patch up with a band aid. Everything he's been pushing away is finally catching up to him. He can try to run away from his problems but he can't outrun himself."

"I should have pushed him to talk."

"Yes. You should have."

"I'll talk to him now." Maybe she would still be able to get somewhere with him.

"Dr. Brennan," Sweets tried to stop her as she turned around. "I think you need to realize it may be too late."

She turned back to him in anger. "It's never too late to save his life!"

"That's not what I mean. What I mean is, it may be too late for us to do anything. He needs some serious help. More help than even I can provide."

"What does that mean for him?"

"It means we may have to try and stage an intervention."

Brennan shook her head. She could only imagine the resistance they'd be met with. She had no doubt in her mind Booth would fight them tooth and nail. "I have to try."

* * *

Booth avoided Brennan the rest of the day. He'd disappear for hours at a time with no way for her to locate him. A few times she tried to talk to him when he did appear. He wouldn't hear anything she had to say. She'd get out no more than, "last night," before he'd be fleeing the room. At last she gave up. For now. She'd allow some time for him to get his bearings. Get himself together. Then she'd try again. She'd give him some space. But there was no way she was backing down. It was a shame she didn't realize the danger he was in.

That night, after being satisfied he was in the house and would _stay _in the house, she went to bed. Booth didn't bother joining her. There was no point in pretending now. He laid himself down on the couch and pulled a blanket up over him. Tiredly he closed his eyes.

"_Did you see the way she looked at you today? You hurt her. What you did to her wasn't passionate, or loving. You're turning into me."_

_I hurt her._

"_That's right. You did. And what are you going to do about it?"_

_Hurt myself._

"_Good."_

For once he wasn't gasping when he woke up. Booth was on edge. He was poisoned by the distorted thoughts in his head. He'd sexually abused his own wife. What kind of man was he? What sort of monster was he turning into? The thought of it scared him more than anything ever had. He fought back tears. He couldn't live like this. And if he was turning into a predator, then he needed to put himself down. Immediately.

Booth popped up off the couch with one thing in mind. Suicide. It'd been at least a year since he'd seen his gun. But he had to imagine Brennan still had it. Relentlessly he tore the house apart searching for his missing weapon. The harder he searched the angrier he became. Why couldn't anything ever be easy for him? Even death was proving to be difficult!

Finally he had to surrender. If Brennan had it she'd hidden it well. No matter. There were other ways to take a life. He galloped upstairs to the bathroom. From out of the medicine cabinet he retrieved his razor. Without the slightest bit of hesitance he pressed it down against one of the main veins that just rose above the skin in his wrist. His eyes closed. The roaring monster inside was screaming at him, pleading with him to make the cut.

Alyssa began to cry. Booth snapped out of his trance as though he were waking from a dream. He saw what he was doing, and threw the razor with force into the sink. "Oh, God." He put his head in his hands. Alyssa continued fussing. Booth decided to deal with himself later. His daughter needed him.

In her room he did a quick diaper change. Now content, she smiled. He took her into his arms and sat them both down in the rocking chair. Close to him he held her as they moved back and forth in a gentle motion. "I'm so sorry," he whispered to her. "I don't know how much longer I can keep this up." He realized he'd been almost out of his own body. Some other force had taken control. But he'd done nothing to stop it; to stop himself. "Your dad has some real problems. But there's nothing anyone can do about it." His eyes cast upward towards God. "I just want to stop feeling like this."

He knew what he had to do. It a step he'd been trying to resist in taking. But all other options had run out. It was time.

* * *

It was only because of Alyssa that he survived the night. When morning arrived he was dressed and out of the house before Brennan woke. Dr. York was waiting for him for Booth's monthly check. It hadn't come a moment too soon. He intended to put his plan into action; to work his charm on the good doctor. He only hoped it would work.

The visit went as per usual. Booth stripped down, changed into a hospital gown, and fought himself while he laid in a scanning machine. He felt faint by the time he emerged. Upon dressing he met back with Dr. York in his office. The doctor barely glanced up as Booth sat down. "So, how have you been feeling?"

"Physically, fine. No problems to report." His palms sweated. His pulse pushed blood at a lightning pace through his body. Now was his chance. "But, um. I get kind of anxious coming in here. It's hard for me to keep still during the tests." He wasn't lying, exactly.

Dr. York eyed him. "Do you want something for that?"

Booth nodded, unable to trust his voice. _I think I'll lose my life if I don't._

"Well," he pulled out his prescription pad. "What would you like?"

It was this easy? Booth almost laughed out loud. He should have done this ages ago! "I don't know. I get like, panicky. What do you recommend?"

He twisted his features in thought. Then his pen began to scribble. "I'm prescribing you Xanax." Across the desk he handed the scrap of paper. Booth skimmed it over. His mouth near fell open in amazement. "You're giving me ninety pills?"

"Mr. Booth, you'll be coming back here every month for the rest of your life. You'll be dealing with these issues for the rest of your life. Use the pills sparingly, but how you see fit."

Hope swelled like a balloon in his chest. "Thanks, doc." He managed to get out.

"You can get that filled in the hospital pharmacy on your way out."

Booth did just that. He waited anxiously until his name was called and a paper bag was handed to him. His gratitude was so great he was sure he over thanked the poor technician. On his way home he stopped at a fast food restaurant and ordered no more than a drink. There in the parking lot he tore into the bag savagely. Into his hand he poured out two pills. Then with a sip of soda he downed them in one gulp.

By the time he arrived home in the driveway he was already feeling relief. His head fell back onto the head rest and his eyes closed. It'd been months since he'd felt so good. And now that sweet sensation would be in him always.

* * *

For the next week Booth was almost always asleep. He'd combined the Xanax with over the counter sleeping pills. They knocked him straight out into a state of unconsciousness, so deep that Brennan had trouble waking him. During his few waking hours he was disoriented. He was irritable. The pills had lessened his anxiety but soured his moods. When he was awake his mind obsessed over what had happened to him. Over things he'd done, both with Amanda and to Brennan over the course of his recovery. His self hatred took him down to a dark place. Constantly he cut at himself, using the pain as a back up crutch.

She knew they were in for a real episode when she realized he wasn't bothering to hide it from her anymore. So once again she packed up Alyssa and traveled back to see Sweets. She broke into his office, interrupting one of his appointments. Sweets read her like a book.

"It's an emergency," she explained. "Please."

Sweets dismissed his patient, promising him that he'd double their time the following week. Brennan waited until he left and the door was closed before speaking. "He's faltering. He sleeps a great amount. There's wounds all over his arms." She continued to fill him in.

"Okay." Sweets stepped over to his desk in the middle of her speech. "It's time to step it up."

"Who are you calling?"

"Back up."


	75. Intervention

Booth woke up feeling rather strange. It was a feeling he often woke up with since he'd first started digesting the Xanax. But this feeling was different from that one. He slowly opened his eyes in the late afternoon sun shining through the window. The house was too quiet. Too still. The hair on his arms rose. Something wasn't right.

He dragged himself out of bed and headed downstairs. Midway down he stopped. In the living room Brennan sat accompanied by two men. Sweets and Dr. Wyatt. His brow furrowed. What was going on?

One of them must have felt his gaze. In unison the three turned to look at him. Booth straightened, proudly displaying his anger. "What is this?"

Brennan rose to her feet. "I didn't know what else to do. I didn't know how else to help you." She admitted sadly.

"Help me with what?"

"You're in trouble." Dr. Wyatt was the next to speak. "We want to help you."

"In trouble?" He repeated. "I'm the best I've been in a long time."

"No, you're not. Dr. Brennan has been updating me on your condition. Booth, you're sick." Sweets tried to convince him. "It's not your fault. But you need to trust us now. Trust your friends."

It was complete bullshit, in Booth's eyes. "I'm not listening to this." He started back up the stairs.

Brennan called after him. "Booth, I know about the pills. I found them."

"We know you're taking Xanax. A sedative. The same kind of drug that Amanda injected you with." Sweets supported her.

He froze. She'd found his magic medication? How? He'd gone out of his way to hide it from her. But his shock didn't last long. Anger came back with a vengeance. He whirled around. "So what? So I need some help from time to time."

"It's not from time to time. We know you're almost always on them. That's why you sleep so much. You're using them as a tool to avoid your issues."

"Eventually you'll keep taking more and more until you will over dose yourself. Purely on accident, of course." Dr. Wyatt added.

"Would that really be such a bad thing?" Booth snapped before he could censor himself.

"Booth please. You need help." Brennan begged.

"There's a program we'd like to take you to. It'll keep you safe from yourself while you continue to work out your issues." Dr. Wyatt took a few steps towards the stairs. Booth didn't hesitate backing up one. His glare was so icy, so hate filled that Brennan shivered. Worriedly she looked to Sweets. He appeared to be just as frightened as her. Never before in him had they seen such a dark side. "Booth," she tried yet again. "You once told me that Gordon Gordon was the only doctor who ever made sense to you. Listen to him now. Trust him, like you used to."

Booth wasn't listening. "What have you been telling them? That I'm some drug addict?"

"Of course not!"

"What about you, huh?" He had absolutely nothing terrible to say about her. But it didn't matter. His thought process wasn't making a whole lot of sense to him. All he knew was that he as enraged. They were trying to destroy the world he'd made for himself. His bubble of safety was being punctured. "You're far from perfect!"

"You're going to end up killing yourself!" She screamed at him, losing control of her cool composure.

"Maybe that's what I want!" He hollered back.

A tear fell down Brennan's cheek. She straightened, throwing her shoulders back. "If you don't get help I'm taking Alyssa and we're leaving." She threw down her ultimatum. Besides her she could hear Sweets gasp. Dr. Wyatt whipped his head around to look at her. Brennan, of course, had no such intention. She couldn't imagine leaving him alone, whether he received help or not. All that mattered was Booth believing her bluff. Which he clearly did.

He charged down to the bottom of the stairs. "You can't do that."

"I can, and I will. You're still letting Amanda hurt you. Change who you are."

"You're allowing her to take you away from your friends and family." Dr. Wyatt nodded.

"You don't want to fight. You've given up. And I won't have our daughter around that. I won't allow her to be hurt, like you've hurt me."

"Don't bring that into this! You should have said something!"

She blinked as though she'd been slapped. "Bring what? What are you talking about?"

For the first time he appeared uneasy. "The other night. What I did."

"What did you do?"

He wouldn't look at any of them. "Don't make me say it."

"I really have no idea what you are referring to."

His voice was nearly in audible. "You didn't want it. I did it anyway. I'm no better than her."

She was completely gob smacked. "Booth, do you… do you think you raped me?" Had he gone on believing this all this time? Her heart ached. She forgot about the other two in the room. Carefully she tried to embrace him. He reared away. That didn't stop her from trying to reach him verbally. "You didn't. You're my husband and I love you. You did nothing wrong. I wanted to be with you. If I didn't, I would have told you. And you would have stopped." She reassured him in a firm voice. She wasn't sure he believed her. His eyes were still trained on the ground. Though he breathed heavily his stature suggested the fight was gone from within him. Brennan seized the moment. She approached. "Please. Don't keep punishing yourself. Let us help you."

His temper flared again. He took himself straight to the front door. The three of them followed him. If Booth strayed from their sight it wasn't difficult to fathom that they'd never see him again.

"I don't need help!" He snarled. "I'm taking care of myself!"

"You're killing yourself. Come on." Sweets pleaded.

"If you care at all about me, then please, Booth." Brennan offered her hand to him. He stared at it.

"_If you cared about yourself at all," Amanda warned Booth as she tightened rope around his neck. "You'd quit struggling. You wouldn't make me have to keep doing this to you."_

All of a sudden Booth felt outside himself. His head felt as light as a helium balloon. He could hear his friends still speaking to him but he couldn't make out their words. Through his haze he knew exactly what was happening to him. Very calmly he lowered himself down onto the floor and sat.

The three didn't know what to make of him. A dazed, glaze formed over his eyes. His muscles drooped. His vision became blurry, as though he were attempting to see things while underwater.

"Booth? What's happening?"

His muscles gave. He flopped sideways just as he convulsed from a grand mal seizure.

Booth woke up to the feeling of his tongue being stuck to the roof of his mouth. He opened his dry eyes to a completely unfamiliar room. His body was stiff and sore. All around he looked until his gaze fell down onto himself. He was in a hospital bed, wearing a hospital gown underneath a few layers of blankets.

"You're in the hospital." A voice startled him. He tilted his head sideways to see Brennan sitting besides him. She was haggard, and exhausted. "You had a seizure. You're all right, but you're staying here for a while to get some help. I know you're mad." Furious, actually, judging by the way his face suddenly hardened. "But this is where you need to be right now. You're going to die, Booth. And I won't let you. After all you've been through I'm not going to sit back and willingly let you take your own life because of her." She touched his hand. He withdrew. He'd had enough. It was obvious. She stood. "I'll be here every day to visit, and see how you are."

He turned his head away from her.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way." She said in parting. Had she looked back she would have seen tears in his eyes.


	76. Last Call At The Hospital

The next week was a living Hell for Booth. It was decided that the first part of his recovery would be detoxification. The Xanax was ruling over his body. He'd come to learn from his new team of doctors that what he had been doing was binging. Every time he had taken a dose he'd increased the amount he took in order to achieve his high faster. Because of that he had a difficult time clearing them out of his system. This time seemed worse than the first time he'd suffered through.

He was kept isolated away from the others in a room with no furniture, nor a window. Both a doctor and security stood just outside to keep an eye on him. His past sneaky behavior had become well documented. No one was taking any chances.

Booth mostly just sat on the floor and rode out the physical phantoms taking over his body. He sweat copious amounts, soaking his hospital gown. He vomited a few times, though there wasn't much in his body to expel. His heart raced so fast he was sure it would explode. The images this brought to mind caused severe attacks of panic. The room was closing in on him! Those two men standing outside didn't have any desire to help him! They were linked to Amanda! His shoulders shook. Yes. That had to be it. Amanda had convinced them to finish the job she'd started. And Brennan, by placing him here, had played right into that game.

Amanda knelt down next to him. He gasped his rhythmic breathing. His chin was pressed down against his chest as he couldn't bring himself to raise his eyes and stare straight into hers. She ran her fingers through his hair. "Bet you're wishing for death now, huh?"

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

"Wouldn't it be great if you had a gun? Hmm? If you could just end this all yourself? I bet you would. They don't care about you. If your friends cared about you they wouldn't have left you here to suffer."

Her words were getting to him. He breathed faster.

"Just hold on. Get them to trust you. There's other ways to commit suicide. We'll find 'em. It's not impossible."

It was a hallucination Booth wasn't soon to forget. Before it was all done he suffered from another seizure. The medical team had a difficult time reviving him. But from then on the worst was over. His doctor put him on a low dose of Valium to manage his symptoms. It doubled to serve as an anti seizure medication. It had become obvious that Booth's seizures were not isolated events. The abuse he'd been put through in captivity had resulted in a disorder.

He was granted new found freedom to move about the unit. Multiple doctors encouraged him to take part in day programs. Most of them were group therapy, in which Booth refused to participate. Across the room he would sit and watch. But no one was forcing him to do anything. That point he was trying to drive home.

Brennan came to see him. He ignored her all together while she sat besides him and spoke of things he had no interest of. She'd gotten a nanny, and gone back to work. Her stories were a painful reminder of the life he was no longer living, and by the looks of things, wouldn't be living. Life beyond the hospital walls wasn't one he could see.

"Booth," she took a hold of his hand. "Please don't be angry with me."

He directed his gaze to the window. Amanda chuckled in his mind. _Too bad you can't jump out it._

"Booth. Just… look at me?"

He did. But his eyes were blank. She knew it was time to go. Up she stood, and was surprised when he did the same. Tightly she hugged herself to him. He felt unfamiliar in her arms. "I'm not sorry," she told him before letting him go.

He muttered something quietly under his breath. She paused her movements, waiting for him to repeat himself. When he didn't she decided she wouldn't push it. She didn't doubt how angry he was, not just at the whole situation, but with her for placing him under locked supervision. If he wanted to be mad, then fine. She could deal with it. At least he was still alive.

But as the week drew on even the few bright spots became dimmer. Booth simply didn't try. Though doctors attempted to engage him in conversation he wouldn't say a word. His weight diminished again as he soon wouldn't eat. Getting him to take any sort of medication was a chore. After spending too much time in his room his doctors tried to force him into contact with other patients. He'd allow himself to be in the same area as the others. But more often than not he was found sitting on the floor by himself, watching. Always watching.

Sweets tried to involve himself. Booth wouldn't even give him the time of day. Once he saw the young man approach he was on his feet and striding in the opposite direction. The best Booth's staff could do for the therapist was to relay information. Unfortunately, this also meant Sweets was coerced into sharing that knowledge with Brennan. Before her he stood in her office at the Jeffersonian.

She frowned when he was finished. "I'll try to stop by and see him after work."

Sweets was baffled. That was it? No exaggerated reaction of concern, just as he had had? His emotion must have been evident on his face, because Brennan added, "what's wrong?"

"I'm just… surprised, Dr. Brennan."

"Why?"

He tried to delicately phrase his words. "He doesn't want to live. This is his way of showing you that. He's attempting to take back the control of his life."

"He's angry. Nothing more." She looked back down to the report she'd been writing. Sweets didn't move. "Yes?"

"You have a lot of loyalty to him. In a lot of couples the significant other would have left by now, unable to put up with the numerous on going issues."

Brennan glared at him. "So you're saying I should just give up on him? I should let him take his own life? That will never happen, Dr. Sweets. Booth was and is still a strong man. He wasn't broken in a day. It took a year of her abuse and torture. That isn't just something that can be erased in a month with nothing more than drugs and therapy. I know what we're in for. I've known it all along."

Sweets lowered his gaze to her floor. Softly, he mumbled, "I just thought-"

"I'll never give up on him. I never have and I never will. When he was missing and I was touring the world I looked for him everywhere. I knew it wasn't logical, but that didn't stop me. If he hadn't of freed himself we wouldn't be in this predicament. We'd probably be standing over his grave." She swallowed, her throat tightening at the thought. "He had a desire to live or else he wouldn't have escaped. He would have let her kill him. I will find that desire again. I will do everything I can to help him. And I'll find a way."

"I believe you." Sweets said, his voice still quiet and sorrowful.

"I think you should leave now." She dismissed him. He left like a puppy with its tail in between its legs.

For the remainder of her time in the office she sat and stewed. How could Sweets even think of such a thing? Never in a million years would she give up or walk away from him. She reflected back onto the person he once was. That Booth was still in there. In glimpses he showed himself. The day Alyssa was born he'd been shining true and free. The evilness that had touched the outside of his body had gone inside, as well. And it was that evil that was keeping Booth locked up. She'd find a way to set him free, and wouldn't stop until then.

She was suddenly struck with an idea. She picked up her reciever and punched the memorized number into the phone. "Hi. It's Dr. Brennan. I have something I'd like to try, but it will involve breaking a few rules."

* * *

_Booth was sitting alone in the sand on an endless beach. There being no water and the sky being only a sheer white color, he was perplexed. Where was he? Where were the details? _

"It's b_ecause you're in purgatory." Amanda was suddenly standing besides him. He didn't have the energy to get up. Just barely did he even tilt his head to look at her. She smirked back at him. "You ready to give up? You're almost there. I told you I'd find a way for you to kill yourself, and I'm working on it. You're not backing out on me, are you?"_

_Booth didn't speak._

"_Good. It's the only way. I already destroyed your life. You're just ruining the lives of those you love. And lets face it," she dropped down onto her knees besides him. Directly into his ear she whispered. "You're never going to get any relief from me if you don't. I'll always be here in your head. I'll drive you insane."_

"_You're already half way there." He shot back in a dead voice._

"_Well, then," she pushed him down onto his back. "Lets play."_

* * *

Booth was having a nightmare when Brennan arrived in the doorway of his hospital room. He wasn't making a sound, but she could see it in his grimaced expression. She could hear it in his rapid breathing. It took steel will not to wake him.

Not that it took too long to wake on his own. His eyes popped open. He widened them, panting before laying his head back down and wincing them closed.

"Booth?"

Since his bed was turned away from her he craned his head around. Brennan moved forward into his room, holding Alyssa. She could only hope this worked.


	77. Turn It Around

The old Booth appeared the moment he saw his child. Questioningly he looked from Alyssa to Brennan. She went to his bed side. Very carefully she lowered the child down to his chest. He propped his head up on a few pillows. Then he held her close. Protectively he laid his hand gently over her back. In circles he rubbed his thumb over the fabric of the back of her shirt. Alyssa closed her eyes happily.

Brennan had to smile. She saw how clearly Booth had relaxed. Now perhaps she could speak to him. "I know you're not doing well."

His eyes flicked to hers for just a moment.

"They tell me everything, Booth."

"I'm tired." He whispered. "I'm just… tired."

"I know. I also know you're angry at me."

"I didn't want this." He agreed. There was no trace of fierce emotion in his voice, which she had expected. She took it as a positive sign. "I know. But it had to be this way. I'm not going to let you hurt yourself."

He gazed down at Alyssa's sleeping face. "What if I'm suffering?"

"Then we'll find a way out of it. It isn't hopeless, Booth."

He shook his head. "My life's over, Bones. I'll never go back to the FBI. I don't know if I'll ever be able to work again. I can't keep it together in my personal life."

"What about us?"

"You'd be so much happier without me."

Brennan inhaled sharply. "I can tell you for a fact that would never be true. While you were missing I was the most miserable I have ever felt."

She saw his eyes drift upwards. They became watery before he shut them tightly. "She's always there, Bones." He said through grit teeth.

"Who? Amanda?"

He nodded. "She's just, she's always still just in my head. She's encouraging me to kill myself."

"Booth-"

"Every night I'm back in that basement being tortured."

"Is that why you were sleeping on the couch? Your bad dreams?"

He nodded without looking at her. "I wanted you to think I was better so you wouldn't worry. I thought maybe I could convince myself that way, too."

She squeezed his hand. "So the Xanax was both for your nerves and for you to sleep." She realized. "You should have told me this sooner. We could have gone about it the right away. Things didn't have to go this far."

"It would have happened anyway. I never escape her."

The constant presence in his mind worried Brennan. "Have they done any recent tests on you?"

"Yeah. I'm clean. Just crazy."

"You're not crazy, Booth." She scolded firmly.

"Then what would you call it? What would you call this person she broke me into?"

"Confused. Hurting." She laid his hand over his, which was still on Alyssa's back. "Strong."

"I'm not strong." His voice cracked. "This isn't the life I wanted for us, Bones. I thought when the cancer went into remission I'd be better. All this would just go away."

"I did, too." She admitted. "We were foolish in thinking so."

They fell silent. Brennan watched as Booth continued to hold onto his daughter. He craned himself forward to kiss her forehead. In her sleep she smiled. Brennan couldn't help but to smile as well. "She's crazy about you."

"I love her so much." He continued to watch her sleep. "I'm glad she doesn't know what's going on. I hope I can get better before she gets old enough."

Brennan felt a flicker of hope. "Does that mean you're going to try and get better?" Had her plan really worked? She had a hunch that if Booth saw his daughter face to face, it might give him the strength and motivation to push forward. No matter how he felt about himself she knew he'd do anything for his family. At least, the old Booth did.

He said nothing. His lips pressed shut. On Alyssa his gaze stayed locked. But Brennan could see the tides had changed. His bitter down trodden thoughts had shifted. She seized on the moment. "You have two options, Booth. You can give up everything. You can stay here for the rest of your life, refusing to better yourself. In that process you will give up on us, and yourself. You'll let Amanda take the ultimate revenge by ruining the rest of your life." Her tone came out much harsher than she intended. In a softer voice, she continued. "Or you can get better. You can move past this, like everyone except you believes you can do. If you can't work for the FBI then we'll find another place for you. You can come home. Booth," she squeezed his hand. "We want you to come home."

"I don't want to live like this, Bones. But I don't know how anyone is going to help me."

"You could start by trying."

"How could they possibly understand what I've been through?"

"They can't. No one can. But you can help us to understand so we can help you."

His voice grew to be small, difficult to hear. "I'm just holding onto control. I'm afraid of what will happen when I give that up. I'm barely surviving now. To let all of that go…"

"That's why you're here. You'll be safe from yourself. It won't be easy. But we'll be here for you." Her heart felt swollen with hope. _Please, Booth, _she silently begged. _Choose life. Choose to turn your life around. _"I'll do everything I can for you, Booth."

"I know you will." He managed a slight smile. "You've already done far more than you needed to."

"It _was_ needed." She kissed him tenderly. His passionate returned kiss pushed her over the edge. She was getting through. "I love you. I'll never give up on you."

It was those words that sparked a flame. Once Brennan left Booth laid awake thinking for quite some time. Around noon he dared to leave the security of his room. He stopped at the nurses' station. "Who's my therapist?"

"You don't remember?" The nurse asked, surprised.

Between the detox and general disdain for the entire unit, Booth really hadn't paid all that much attention to people concerned with his care. "No." He admitted.

"Dr. Wylan. Did you want to speak with him? I can have him paged." The nurse wore the same eager face Brennan had left with. Booth wasn't sure what to think. Were doctors ordinarily paged just because their patients wished to speak with them? "Yeah, all right."

While he waited he returned to his room. Specifically, his bed. Soon enough a tall man with dark hair who didn't seem to be too much older than Booth walked in. "You wanted to speak with me, Mr. Booth?"

Now he could vaguely recall seeing the doctor as he'd been coming out from one of his seizures. "Just Booth. None of that mister crap." He pushed himself up into a sitting position. "What exactly is wrong with me, doc? Everything."

Dr. Wylan pulled out a chair and sat down. "Everything? Well, you suffer from post traumatic stress disorder, panic disorder, and severe manic depression. In addition to that you have developed a seizure disorder resulting from multiple brain injuries."

Booth tried to absorb the information. "So… am I savable?"

"That's really all up to you. We can work with you and work out these issues that are binding you. But you have to want it. So far you've shown no interest."

Timidly he continued to probe. "If we were to start working on it… how painful is it gonna be?"

Dr. Wylan wasn't afraid to tell the truth. "It will be difficult. Once we divulge you're going to recall things you may have forgotten. It's possible we may discover a lot that you have blocked out. It's as if you'll be reliving it all over again."

_I'm already doing that now. Every day. _

"I have to ask… why the sudden change?"

His response was instant. "My daughter. My wife. My son. They deserve much better from me than I've been able to give them. They deserve a better life than this."

"What about you? Don't you think you deserve better than this?"

"No. And honestly, I don't think there's much hope for me, doc."

"I'll take that challenge." Dr. Wylan stuck out his hand. "If you're up for it."

Booth stared at the doctor's extended palm. _"I love you. I'll never give up on you." _He shook it. "You're on."


	78. The Tip Of The Iceberg

"So, where do we start?"

"I want you to take it back to where this all first began. I want you to tell me about the night you were attacked and abducted."

Booth had to shut down an urge to vomit. Already? It was first thing the following morning. That evening before he had sought out Dr. Wylan to lay down some ground rules. "I'm not doing group therapy," he said sans greeting. "At least, not right now. I'm not prepared to share my story with them just yet."

Dr. Wylan had nodded. "Fair enough."

"I may never be ready to talk about it with strangers."

"We'll see." He answered cryptically. Booth had walked away still feeling he had the upper hand. He still stood by his firm affirmation that no one was making him do anything. He would concede when he felt he needed to; when it was beneficial. But he still stubbornly was unwilling to give up complete control.

"That night? You want me to talk about that night?"

Dr. Wylan nodded. The two were sitting in a private office with the door closed. A desk was all that separated them. The doctor had a legal pad in front of him, and the butt of a pen in his mouth. Despite it being unusual Booth rather liked the casualness. Maybe this doctor would be all right.

"I met with Bones for a drink after we finished our case. I came home and went to sleep when there was a knocking at my door. I answered it and Amanda," he had a hard time even saying her name. "Was there. She said something to me before pulling out a knife-"

"Whoa. Wait. Slow it down. Step by step, tell me what happened."

_Am I really ready for this? _He was starting to shy away. In his throat he tried to swallow down a painful lump. "I… uh. I was…" He began to sweat. Nervously he fidgeted.

Dr. Wylan leaned forward. "What's happening to you right now is you're panicking. Did you notice you've moved away from me?"

Booth glanced down. Sure enough he'd scooted a few inches away from the table. "No."

"What I want you to do is to breathe. Just close your eyes and focus on your breathing."

For some reason he couldn't explain, Booth didn't want to do this task. Particularly, closing his eyes. Faster and faster he breathed. He felt himself going faint.

Dr. Wylan was patient. "Just slow breaths, all right? Give it a shot. If it doesn't help or you need to run screaming from the room, do it. Just try it first."

Booth glanced around.

"It's safe in here. The door is locked."

Satisfied with that, he shut his eyes. It was a struggle to get his breathing back under control. Amanda was right there, egging him on in his thoughts. _"You're even stupider than I thought. He knows all about what happened to you. Now he wants you to talk about it? Yeah, tell him all about that night I dominated you. You fought, I'll give you that. But it wasn't enough now, was it?"_

The breathing exercise wasn't working. Booth winced. The color in his features was draining. Dr. Wylan frowned. All they'd done was skirt the topic of his abduction and he was suffering from a panic attack. His work was going to be cut out for him. "Visualize something peaceful. Something that makes you happy."

His words were just barely cutting through Amanda's. _"Tell him all about how I tied you up and beat you for hours. Go on. Tell him what a weak coward you are."_

_Visualize, _Booth repeated back against her words. An image of Brennan came to mind. Next he thought about Alyssa and Parker. His muscles uncoiled. Gradually his breathing returned to its normal rhythm. Amanda was silenced. He opened his eyes. Dr. Wylan was grinning brightly. "Good!"

Booth just nodded. He felt completely wiped out. His story came out in clips and sentences. But he began to speak.

_Booth was just barely able to hold his eyes open by the time the cab pulled up outside his apartment building. The stress from finishing their case combined with the amount of alcohol he'd consumed had spent him. He fished some money out of his wallet and handed it to the driver. Then he left the cab, jogging the short distance to the front door of his building. Not long after he'd left Brennan a soaking rain had started. He was grateful he'd taken a cab._

_Inside his warm apartment embraced him. He hung his coat up by the door. In his bedroom he changed, putting the clothes he'd been wearing into his hamper and pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. He looked at his bed, and decided against getting in it. The couch appealed to him more. His back would hate him for it in the morning, but he wanted to fall asleep watching television. He wanted the noise to drown out the melancholy thoughts that had been battering his mind for days._

_On the couch he settled himself down. Through the channels on the television he surfed until he found Sportscenter. Then he closed his eyes, listening not so much to their words but so much as their voices. It didn't take long before he was asleep._

_A knock at his front door startled him. Who could it be so early in the morning? He sat up. Bones? Who else would it be? Was something wrong? The thought put him on his feet. He turned the television off. Open wide he opened the door in expectance to see Brennan. Instead, another woman stood before him. Her beauty was stunning, with long red hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her eyes were as blue and clear as the ocean. Though she smirked it never occurred to him that her reason for being on his doorstep was something sinister. "Can I help you?" He asked politely._

_She tilted her head and smiled. Suddenly she jumped at him like a wild animal. Outstretched in her hand was a stun gun. It skimmed Booth's chest, shocking him but not enough to knock him out. He collapsed down onto his knees. His first thought was to get his gun. But he'd locked it up. If only he could get to the wall…_

_He hadn't had time to move before she was on him again. He felt something sharp pierce his back. A warm feeling spread through his body within seconds. Away he twisted, elbowing her in the head. Up to his feet he rose shakily. The safe. He had to reach the safe._

_Not easily would she let him go. Whatever she'd done to him had weakened his defenses. Consequently she was able to throw him around like a rag doll. He tripped over furniture in trying to escape. She went after him with a knife, leaving wounds all over his body. Still, he wouldn't give up._

_He was crawling on the floor to his bedroom when pressure pushed him down flat out. On the back of his neck he felt something tingling with warmth. He could smell static electricity. One snap was all he heard before he was out cold._

If Dr. Wylan was impressed by Booth's story, he didn't show it. His expression remained impartial. "So it sounds like you under estimated her."

"I didn't know what was happening. I didn't know why it was happening." Booth had his eyes closed again. He trembled rigorously. _I'm dying…_

"No, you're not."

Booth opened his eyes. Had he said that out loud? "I can't do this." He felt like he was having a seizure. Was it possible to have a seizure while being completely alert and conscious?

"Yes, you can. I warned you it was going to be difficult. And this is only the beginning."

Booth gasped out a laugh.

"We'll stop for today. Go back to your room and relax." Dr. Wylan patted him on the shoulder. He didn't react when Booth jerked away. "You did good."

Booth doubted that. But he fled to the safety of his room regardless.

* * *

Brennan was breaking the rules. Again. She'd just finished work. All day her thoughts had been on Booth. The hours couldn't seem to pass quick enough as she waited to go see him. After their talk she wondered if he'd made any progress. It seemed to her like she'd begun to break through to him. Could it have been too much to hope for? She longed for the day when all this would be behind them. When at last they could put Amanda to rest. Or rot.

In Booth's room she walked into what she hadn't expected to find. Booth was laying down in bed. A blanket half concealed his frame. He was facing the wall; his back to her. But what disturbed her was the aggressive way in which his body was shaking. "Booth?" She stopped besides him, settling her hand tenderly on the space between his rib cage and hip. Was he having a seizure?

He rolled onto his stomach to get away from her touch. When he realized who she was his worry lightened. Slightly. The shaking continued. Brennan dropped down to one knee next to his bed. "What's wrong? Should I get a doctor?"

He shook his head no. Even his teeth were chattering.

"What happened?" She asked him just as a nurse poked her head into the room. "Dr. Brennan, a word, please?"

She pulled him into her arms, holding him tightly. "He needs his doctor." Booth nuzzled against her, though it didn't ease his symptoms.

"No, he doesn't. Outside please. Now."

Brennan laid Booth back against his pillows. Angrily, she stood. Who was this nurse to be questioning her? She stomped outside. "What is it?"

The nurse closed the door behind them. "Mr. Booth needs his rest. He's had a traumatic morning. Besides, you're breaking the rules by being alone with him in there, anyway."

"A traumatic morning?" Brennan repeated. "Why? What's happened?"

"You have to speak more with Dr. Wylan, but Booth has chosen to undergo therapy."

Brennan felt her knees turn to jelly from the amount of relief she felt flow through her. He was trying! He'd chosen his family over Amanda and his demons, who had been keeping him down for so long. The Booth she had known was fighting back!

Yet the happiness was short lived. She thought then of the episode he was having all alone in his room. No one was there with him. He needed comfort. "Can I speak with Dr. Wylan?"

"He's not on the unit. I can have him paged."

"Do that. In the meantime I will be with my husband." Brennan marched back into Booth's room. She moved a chair next to his bed. Sitting down in it, she welcomed him into her arms once again. He reluctantly accepted her embrace. Two sides of him, the broken man who didn't want to be touched, and the caring husband who doted on his wife, were tearing him apart. A good ten minutes passed before she felt him really begin to relax. All the while she held him she spoke soothingly to him in a soft voice.

"I'm trying," he suddenly whispered to her out of the blue.

Her eyes watered though she smiled. "I know. I'm proud of you, Booth."

By the time the door opened thirty minutes later Booth had drifted off peacefully, remaining in her loving hold. Dr. Wylan strolled in. He greeted her. They'd talked more on the phone then they ever had face to face.

"He chose to start therapy?" She didn't waste any time getting down to the facts.

"Yes. We began this morning."

She gazed down at him. "When I arrived here he was in bed, shaking." Gently she stroked his hair away from his forehead.

Dr. Wylan nodded. "It's expected. We talked about the night he was abducted."

"It's expected?"

"The truth is, Dr. Brennan, in going through this he's likely to get worse before he starts to get better. These issues have to be worked out. It's going to take time, and patience, and a lot of support. He's really going to need you while he's going through this."

She looked down to him once again. "I wouldn't be anywhere else."


	79. Deadlines

"No! I can't believe you're doing this to me! I'm not staying here!"

Booth turned his head in the direction of the shrill voice that was shattering his ear drums. Out in the hallway a young woman was caught in between a doctor, a nurse, and a young man. The nurse had her hand on the woman's arm, while the man was attempting to shove her away. The doctor was unsuccessfully trying to keep the situation under control.

"Nothing's wrong with me!" She screamed again. Booth took his time to really study her. She appeared to be in her early twenties. From head to toe she was dressed in black. A ring protruded from her lip. The only color she had on her was the shining blond color of her short hair. She was too thin, making him wonder if she was on drugs.

The group moved on. All down the hall he could hear her yelling obscenities and protests. Once she was gone Booth lost all interest. He directed his attention back to the group he was sitting in on.

It'd been a week since he'd begun his rigorous therapy. In that week he'd really begun to work at turning his life around. Every afternoon he'd met with Dr. Wylan. Digging into his history had been difficult and painful, to say the least. There had been more than one instance in which he'd gotten up and left in the middle of a session, unable to deal with the scabs being picked off seemingly still fresh emotional wounds. Despite that he always came back. And while he still didn't interact with the other patients, he began eating three square meals a day once again.

When he wasn't in therapy he was listening to others. He still isolated himself, preferring to keep his distance on the opposite side of the room. In listening to their tales he wasn't so preoccupied with his own. Several of the patients he sympathized with. A much older woman was there due to an eating disorder that had started when her husband of over thirty years left her for his twenty three year old assistant. "He's not worth it, if he's going to do that to you! You're better than that!" Booth wanted to call out to her. But he kept his peace. He didn't want them being involved in his business, and so he wouldn't invite himself into theirs.

The nights were the most difficult time. At night he had no distractions. For hours he laid awake feeling the repercussions of his therapy. Those hours were the hardest to get through. Those were the ones he found himself clinging to desperation. Amanda taunted him steadily, and her attempts at convincing him to commit suicide were nearly successful. More than once he knew if he'd had the means he would have done it. He nearly dreamed of being able to harm himself. Now he understood why Brennan had thought it was so important for him to be under supervision.

He never told Dr. Wylan what his nights were like. He just foolishly assumed it came with the territory. Suffering through this was the only way to purge his demons and still be able to punish himself. He wasn't ready to surrender that control. Sometimes he didn't think he would ever be.

Now he sat on the floor with his back up against the wall. His knees were pressed up against his chest. It was the same place he always sat in. No one disturbed him, and from that area he could see who was entering the room long before they saw him. Which was why he couldn't figure out how he missed her.

He whipped his head around when he felt a body collapse down besides him. The girl, the same one from the hall, was now sitting by his side. She was dressed in a hospital scrub top and bottoms. Her black make up was washed off. The ring was gone from her lip. She looked like a normal young woman. "Hi," she smiled brightly.

Booth narrowed his eyes at her. He coldly disregarded her and tried to focus again on the group.

"So why are you here?"

Really? She was just going to be that bold? Again, he didn't respond. Maybe if he ignored her for long enough, she'd get the hint. He wasn't seeking to make friends. Certainly not with her.

"I'm here because my boyfriend is a total asshole. He thinks I'm going to kill myself. I mean, yeah, I threatened it. And I wrote down my plans in my journal. But that doesn't mean anything." She didn't seem to be at all as ruffled as she had been. "I'm Riley. What's your name?"

Again, Booth was quiet. She squinted at him. "You don't say much, do you?"

"Not much gets by you," he said out loud before thinking the better of it. Damn. So much for the silent treatment.

Riley grinned. "So you do talk."

"Look, there's a ton of kids your age over there." He nodded to the group. "Why don't you go talk to them?"

"I don't want to. Besides, you're hot."

Booth stiffened. He definitely didn't like where this was going. He wiggled a few inches away. "I'm married."

"And as I mentioned, I have a boyfriend. So what?"

It was too much. Booth jumped up to his feet. Wordlessly he left the room while she called after him. He walked down the corridor until he reached his own room. He dove into his bed and shut his eyes tightly. The air around him fell away. He heard and felt nothing until Dr. Wylan arrived to check on him. "I heard something happened in the day room. Are you all right?"

All while he cocooned himself he'd been thinking. He lifted his head now and stared his doctor straight in the eyes. "I want to make a deal. If I'm better in a month, then I want to be able to finish this therapy at home."

Dr. Wylan was taken aback. "What?"

"And if you don't agree I'll just break myself out of here." He added angrily. "We both know I can do it."

He sat down in a chair across from Booth's bed. "This seems like a huge step backwards, Booth."

"It'll be on you when I go missing." He insisted.

"Are you threatening? Because if you need tighter security I have no problem placing you on a different unit."

Booth glowered. "I don't want to go through this anymore. I want my wife and my kids."

Dr. Wylan nodded. "I understand. Look, I can guarantee you, you won't be ready to leave in a month no matter how well you're doing. But maybe we can work out something to get you out of here sooner rather than later. I'll cook something up and discuss it with your wife. Can you at least hold on until I do that?"

Begrudgingly he nodded. Back down against his pillows he laid his head. He was still feeling frantic; itching to do something. "Tell the front desk I don't want visitors."

Dr. Wylan paused in his way out the door. "No one? Not even Dr. Brennan?"

His heart cringed. Brennan thought he was doing so well. He didn't want her to see him like this. "No one." He repeated firmly.

* * *

Booth fell asleep early in the evening. He woke up screaming from a nightmare long after "lights out" had been enforced. He laid solitary in bed, gasping horrendously for air. When at last he could no longer take it he struggled up to his feet. He shuffled down the hall to the nurses' station. "Sleeping… pill?" He begged the night nurse in fragmented words.

Her eyes widened. "You can't have one without Dr. Wylan's permission. I'll call him."

He couldn't stand to wait that long. In frustration he punched the counter. Around the unit he paced as his panic attack increased in its severity. His chest felt as tight as a stretched rubber band. He couldn't catch his breath. Faster and faster he gasped. Soon it was difficult for him to so much as put one foot in front of the other. He couldn't see straight.

"Hey," he heard someone call. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Riley sitting on the floor just outside her room. "Look, sorry about today. I was just messing with you. I didn't mean to upset you." She took a closer look at him. "Whoa." She climbed up onto her feet. "You're like, white. Crayola crayon white."

"You shouldn't… have done that." He hissed out brokenly through clenched teeth.

"I'm sorry." She peered at him. "You're not doing so hot right now, are you? Did they call your doctor?"

He couldn't respond. He was too breathless. His eyes squeezed shut as he leaned back against the wall. His face felt as though someone had doused him with gasoline and lit him on fire. Tentative hands helped him slide down onto the floor. He couldn't help himself but to shudder. Riley knelt next to him. She seemed to realize what was happening to him. "Whatever it is, you gotta get your mind off of it." She thought fast. "You said you're married. Got any kids?"

"Two." He panted.

"Good! Tell me about them."

He inhaled as deeply as he could manage. "My daughter Alyssa… she's a few months old…. She's… amazing. She's so… beautiful. Her smile just… it melts my heart, you know? She makes me happy… just by being around her. I also have a son… Parker." His erratic breathing was slowing down. "I don't get to see him… as often as I'd like. Especially now. He lives with his mother. But I love him so much and I miss him. He's such a great kid."

Riley was grinning widely. "How do you feel?"

He took a moment to consider. All his symptoms had stopped. "Better." He looked at her curiously.

"I'm a pysch major at Georgetown." She shrugged.

"Getting first hand experience?"

"Something like that."

He inhaled deeply. "Thank you."

She just nodded. "Something terrible happened to you, didn't it?"

"Yeah." He breathed. "It did."

* * *

Brennan had her cell phone pressed tightly against her ear. She listened to the speaker on the other end while she leaned over Alyssa, changing her diaper. Her focus was pulled equally between the two. Trying to pay attention was hard enough without having two factors battling for it. Sleeping had been difficult for her that night. After work the previous day she'd gone to see Booth, only to be denied entrance. "He asked for no visitors." A nurse told her.

"But I'm his wife." She retorted.

"No one."

Not being allowed to see him got to her. Booth was upset if he was isolating himself. She knew if she could have just seen him she would have been able to make him feel better. Broken hearted and frustrated, she'd gone home, tended to Alyssa, and fallen asleep without eating dinner. She'd been getting ready for work when Dr. Wylan had called. She was relieved to deal with this situation first thing in the morning. "I thought he was doing better?"

"He was. He is."

"Well, doesn't this seem like a set back? He didn't even want to see me yesterday."

"He wants to leave, Dr. Brennan. In a month."

Brennan inhaled sharply. "He won't be ready for that."

"He's threatening to escape if he doesn't get his way."

Finished with Alyssa, she sat down on the bed next to her infant daughter. She tickled her stomach, smiling as she giggled. Her heart ached at the same time. "Do you believe he can do it?"

"I believe he can and will."

"So what do we do? You don't think he'll be ready?"

"No. He's trying. Hard. And he's doing well. But there's a lot of depression and anger that we haven't even begun to deal with."

"He's always had that anger." She thought back to the few times she'd seen him completely lose it. Usually his rage had showed itself in talking about his father. She shivered, recalling the hate she'd seen in his eyes. Luckily she hadn't had to witness it often.

"It needs to be dealt with. I could put him in another unit with tighter security, but I'd really rather not have him around those particular patients."

It was a real dilemma. "So what do we do?"

"To keep him safe I may have to release him to you. Dr. Brennan, if he escapes… in the condition he's in…"

"He won't come back." She finished for him.

"Do you think you can handle having him at home? I'd require he be here during the day for treatment. It's the nights you'd have to deal with."

Alyssa cooed. She stretched her small hands upwards as though she were reaching for the phone. Brennan observed her while she paused a moment to think. Could she really manage Booth at home? If he were to have a problem she wasn't sure what she'd be able to do for him. But on the other having Alyssa around him all the time could be beneficial. They'd started the ball rolling. Now if they could just keep it in motion… "I can try."

"We can rack our brains and discuss it more soon as well. He gave us a deadline." Dr. Wylan chuckled.

Brennan only frowned.


	80. Disturbing Routine

"So, I heard you had a rough night last night. What happened?"

Silence.

"You asked the nurse for a sleeping pill, and showed agitation when she wouldn't just give you one. I would prescribe you something but they have a tendency to increase anxiety, which we definitely don't want."

...

"Booth? Are you listening?"

...

"From what I heard you were all right this morning. You joined the others at breakfast and ate. You sat in on therapy. Your routines haven't been disturbed. So why the sudden episode?"

Nothing.

"All right. Lets just get to it. I think what we should discuss-"

"I don't really feel like doing this today."

"Booth? Where are you going?"

Slam.

* * *

Booth slumped away from the office where he met with Dr. Wylan. He jammed his hands in his pockets. He felt completely worn out, both physically and emotionally. Overnight his desire to try had flown out the window. He just wanted to be left alone for a while. Releasing the built up trauma had finally gotten under his skin. His sleepless night had been evident of that. Even now he still would have been willing to do anything to be able to harm himself.

Amanda had been jabbering non stop since he'd returned to his room after his panic attack. He would have given anything to silence her; to knock himself out, if not kill him entirely. _I'm never going to get better, _he thought hopelessly. _She's never going to go away._

_That's right! _She agreed with wicked glee in his mind.

Booth sat himself down on the floor by the nurses' station. He tried to make himself invisible as he took observation. _It'd be a cinch to get into the drug cabinet, _he thought to himself, watching the door close with the bustle of activity. _Lets face it. Valium's not working. I could drug myself. But that's what got me in here. _He frowned. _Who cares. I was doing a better job taking care of myself, anyway. _

He couldn't help feeling like he had nothing to lose. If nothing was helping him then he could just help himself. Much time passed while he waited to make his move. Just as he was about to bolt for the door Riley sat down besides him. "Hey." She smiled brightly. "Look. My boyfriend brought me clothes." She gestured down to the sweatshirt and jeans she was wearing.

Booth sighed in irritation. His moment to act passed him by.

"So what happened to you last night? I've seen panic attacks but… damn."

He remained mum. In fact, he wouldn't even make eye contact with her. So maybe this young woman helped him. That didn't mean she would be granted inside access into his mixed up world.

"You don't want to talk about it. I get it." She still didn't leave. They sat together in silence. Booth felt pressured, like Riley was a dog waiting for him to throw her a bone. Why did she feel she was entitled to know anything about him? He wasn't there to make friends. He didn't want them. And he certainly didn't want to be friends with a strange twenty something year old woman. "I've had enough," he finally muttered, hoping it would be enough to drive her away.

"Of what? Being here?" She eyed him. "It's not supposed to be a picnic."

"They keep pushing and prodding. And I just can't take it anymore. I've cooperated. I've tried my hardest to give them what they want and really start working through this. Some things are better. But it's too close to the surface now. It's too…" _scary. Painful. _"Much. I just want everyone to leave me alone. I want to go home."

"Have you told your doctor any of this?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because he'll end up making me stay here longer for something stupid, like "denial of issues" or something."

Riley laughed. "I shouldn't laugh. You're probably right."

"I want to get out of here." He turned his head away from her so she wouldn't see the frustrated well of tears building in his eyes. "I want to go home."

* * *

Brennan wasn't sure what to expect when she entered Booth's room. Per her usual routine she'd stopped by the hospital after work to visit. Before she'd taken no more than two steps onto the unit she'd had conversations with both Dr. Wylan and a nurse, both concerned by Booth's sudden troubled state. "He walked out of therapy today." Dr. Wylan informed her.

"He's done that before," Brennan shrugged, unimpressed.

"Yes but, now he's not even trying. And I think I know why. We need to start working on the sexual abuse that happened to him. Whenever it's brought up he just shuts down."

Brennan had removed herself then and set straight off for his room. Inside she walked now into complete darkness, save for the soft light shining in from the hallway. Booth was in bed stretched out on his stomach. His eyes were closed, and he slept on oblivious to her presence. Besides him she stood. _He can't runaway anymore. So he sleeps. _"Booth," she sighed out loud. Lovingly she squeezed his arm. It was the wrong move to make at the wrong time.

Booth's eyes shot open. He grabbed Brennan's wrist with such ferocity that if he tried, he could have broken it. She cried out in surprise. Immediately he released her once he saw who she was. But the damage had already been done. He slunk away to the opposite side of the bed. He said nothing, just watched her, wary eyed.

"I scared you. I'm sorry." She offered her apology quickly.

He patted the bed besides him. She took it as an invitation. Down next to him she laid. He pulled himself close to her, cuddling his body against hers and wrapping an arm around her waist. His head dropped down onto her shoulder.

She was surprised at this amount of affection from him. But not for a moment did she take it for granted. Her lips briefly caressed his forehead. "How are you feeling?" She whispered. Not that she needed to be quiet. It just felt right to speak softly.

"I miss this." He told her. There was underlying emotion in his voice.

"I know. I've been told you've been having a difficult time for the past few days."

"I want to come home." He confirmed.

"You can't, Booth."

"In a month."

"Booth… no." She said gently. "You're not ready to leave. You won't be. You need to stay here and heal. You need help, and that's something I can't provide you. I told you I'm not risking your life. You're a gambler. I'm not. And I won't start by gambling with your health."

His hold on her loosened. "I can't stay, Bones."

"Why? Why has this become so difficult for you?" She rolled onto her side so she could face him. "You were doing so well."

His gaze went past her and drilled into the wall. His expression became completely blank. He'd left her, and gone into his safe place of protection in his mind. Brennan shook her head sadly. "You're faltering because Dr. Wylan wants to speak of the sexual abuse you experienced." He didn't respond, and she waited patiently for him to return. It took a bit, but at last he blinked rapidly and came out of his trance. "Please," he started up like nothing had just happened. "Let me come home, Bones."

"I can't. I'm sorry." She flinched as she spoke the words. He was sure to be angry. Greatly angry. It was the last thing she wanted to invoke in him given the state he was in. But she needed to stand her ground. There was no way this could happen. Booth had already proven time and time again he was a danger to himself in this condition. Brennan had no means of saving him from himself outside the hospital walls.

However, he wasn't enraged. He for once sensed that no matter what he did, he wasn't going to get his way. He rolled onto his stomach and buried his head in his pillow. Brennan watched on, puzzled. "Booth?" After a moment he lifted his head once again. Tears were in his eyes. "I can't do this anymore."

Her first instinct was to tug him back into her embrace. But she decided against it. "Yes, you can. You're stronger than you think you are, Booth."

His heart twinged at her words. Didn't she know what a coward he was? "I was going to break into the nurses' medicine cabinet and steal drugs today."

Her eyes widened in stunned shock. "What?"

"The meds they have me on aren't helping anymore. I'm back to having nightmares. Amanda's talking to me non stop. I want to hurt myself all the time." He looked away. "I miss you. I miss my kids. I'm missing so many of Alyssa's firsts. I don't want to be here, Bones. I can't take it." He sighed. "And now Wylan wants to talk about Amanda… and the abuse… I can't do it. I don't want to. I won't."

Her own eyes watered. "The best thing you can do is just cooperate. Do what they ask you. Work through your issues. The more you share the faster you can heal, and come home. I'll speak to Dr. Wylan for you. We'll get you on a different medication."

Booth closed his eyes. He felt betrayed. Amanda taunted him in his head. _You better just find a way to end your life. No one here is going to help you. And remembering me is going to make your life more of a hell than it already is. _

Brennan waited until he had fallen back asleep. Then she left him to seek out Dr. Wylan. The two stopped in his office once she located him. She replayed the entire conversation she'd had with Booth. The doctor was just as worried as she was. "I'll put the nurses on alert. As for the rest I understand what he's saying, about missing his children. But I just can't in good faith release him. He's relentless on hurting himself. Yes, I know being around Alyssa would help but it's not enough to keep him safe. No one can save him except himself. What he confessed to you is further evidence to me that he's no where near ready to be released."

"What can we do? How can we move forward when he refuses to talk about the past?"

Dr. Wylan was quiet in thought. "Would you say Booth feels safe around you?"

"Of course!"

"Intimately?"

"We've engaged in intercourse numerous times. I mean, we had a child together. I think its safe to say he feels secure." She studied him. "What are you thinking?"

"I wonder if we should try discussing the abuse with you in the room. Maybe you'd be like a security blanket for him."

"But… I'm a person."

"Metaphorically."

"Oh. Yes. It's worth trying."

"We've got to find a way to reach him. And I think this might just work."


	81. A Guilty Goodbye

"I need to go over some things with you, Dr. Brennan, before we bring in Booth."

Brennan settled herself down on the comfy sofa in Dr. Wylan's office. It was the following morning. Dr. Wylan had requested Brennan show up ahead of Booth's scheduled therapy time. She felt guilty, knowing he had no idea what was in store for him. But she was learning to trust and believe in Dr. Wylan. If he thought her presence would be beneficial, then she was willing to try.

"This is going to be difficult. More difficult than I think you expect. It's going to be hard on him to relive it, and hard on you to have to hear it. But I think what you really need to be prepared for is his reaction. I've already informed the staff that once he leaves this office he'll be on suicide watch."

Brennan gasped. "I thought this was supposed to help him."

"It will. By releasing it he'll be able to begin to work through his demons. But that doesn't come without a price. The next twenty four to forty eight hours are going to be crucial. If we can get him through that…"

"I wish there was another way to do this." Brennan shook her head in disapproval. Tears were already hiding in the back of her eyes.

"I know."

Booth shuffled in a few moments later. His walk was already defensive, and when he saw Brennan sitting in his usual seat his stance grew rigid. Suspicious. "What's going on?"

Dr. Wylan was swift to shut the door behind him. "Go ahead and have a seat, Booth."

"What's going on?" He repeated. Though he sat himself down next to Brennan, he didn't stay all that close to her. She realized he was still upset about her refusal to take him home. She was saddened, but knew that soon enough more important issues were to be on his mind, and his anger at her would be forgotten.

"If you're up for it, I think we should break into some deeper ground." The doctor began.

"Meaning what?"

"I really think its time we begin working on getting through the sexual abuse you underwent."

Booth stared at Dr. Wylan in shock. Was his doctor kidding? How could he possibly speak of this when he felt on the edge of a melt down? Couldn't Dr. Wylan see that? And how could he force Brennan to sit in on the session and listen? "No." He jumped up to his feet.

"Booth-"

"I'm not talking about this!" He headed for the door.

"Booth, please." Brennan begged. "Dr. Wylan believes this will be helpful for you in the long run. Please, sit down."

His expression was unreadable. But he removed himself from the door and sat back down next to her. Back and forth he rapidly looked at both of them. His muscles were clenched. They were due to be in for a real ride.

"Thank you." Dr. Wylan started. "We don't have to talk too much about it today. But we need to start. I asked Dr. Brennan here for support."

"She shouldn't have to listen to this." He growled back.

"It's all right, Booth. If it will help you, then it's worth it."

He didn't give her so much as a glance. His unease was apparent. He kept his lips pressed together; his jaw locked tight.

"When did it first happen? How long were you in captivity for?"

Much time passed before Booth said anything. "It wasn't until half way through," he finally whispered. "The last six months, give or take."

Dr. Wylan nodded. "That's when you regained your determination to escape."

"Yeah," he murmured, looking out the window. "I crossed a line, or something. It was after I tried to break out again that it started." Brennan gripped his hand.

_Booth thrashed, trying to get Amanda away from him. He gnashed his teeth together to keep from yelling out in both anger and fear. Amanda wouldn't give. She continued to press down on his hips while undressing him. Finally she punched him with a balled fist right in between the eyes. "I was really hoping not to have to use this." She proceeded to inject a heavy dose of sedation into the vein in his arm. It wasn't long before he was completely open and defenseless. _

_She rubbed his tired, sore muscles. All over his body her hands wandered, working at him to achieve what she wanted. Between the sedation and the pleasant feelings after being in pain for so long, he couldn't help himself. Both the fear and pain came back soon however, with a vengeance._

_She had her way with him, and there wasn't anything he could do except close his eyes._

Booth couldn't look at either of them. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut. He could barely breathe. His grip on Brennan's hand loosened. "The stuff she did to me… after all the pain it felt good… I couldn't help it…" He hyperventilated. _You act like you're such a victim. But you wanted it. _Amanda insisted.

Brennan gripped his hand. "Booth, it's okay. Nobody blames you. It was just your body responding. Not you."

"It isn't your fault." Dr. Wylan agreed.

"Of course it isn't his fault." Brennan snapped back at him. "Why would you need to tell him that?"

"Because he believes it is. He believes everything that happened to him is his own fault."

"That's absurd." She looked back to Booth. His eyes were open. Though he wasn't looking back at her she could see his guilt written clearly. "Isn't it?"

"If I'd just… done what she said…"

"What? No!" Brennan couldn't help herself. She yanked him into her arms. He was stiff. He didn't hug her back. She knew just by observing him that Amanda was beating him down in his thoughts. "What's she saying?" She whispered to him.

_Nobody blames you? YOU blame you! And you should. Stop feeding into their psycho bullshit. You liked it. You know you did. If I had the chance I'd do it all over again. And you'd do nothing about it._

"Booth?" Dr. Wylan tried.

_Are you broken? Are you done yet? You finally ready to end this?_

Booth tore himself away. He stumbled to the office door. Brennan rose, but Dr. Wylan stopped her. "Let him go, now."

Booth was hardly conscious of what he was doing. He managed to twist the knob open. Then he slipped out through the crack he'd created. Nothing registered in his mind until he got back to his room. Behind him he shut the door. Over to his bed he staggered, falling inside. A few tears fell from his eyes. Since he was alone he allowed himself for the first time to let go unabashedly. His soft tears turned into painstaking sobs. Later he would learn that during this time he scratched at himself with whatever he could find.

And then, finally, he was done. He closed his eyes and fell into an exhausted sleep.

* * *

Brennan remained on the unit per Dr. Wylan's advice. For a short while she stayed in his office, discussing up and down everything that had happened. This was good progress, Dr. Wylan had reassured her. Maybe it was, but to her, seeing how badly he was hurting, it felt like a loss.

After a while she felt a need to see him. Quietly she checked into his room. He was a mess, tangled up in sheets. As she drew closer she could see his was sleeping. His arms were marked up with surface scratches that appeared angrier than they really were. But when she noticed a few on the under side of his wrist by his veins, she grew concerned. Had they only reached the eye of the hurricane? "You did well, Booth." She whispered to him, stroking her fingers through his hair. He was so out of it that he felt and heard nothing.

She lingered with him for a bit longer. Then she knew she needed to get home. Alyssa was fine with the baby sitter, but Brennan really craved some time with her daughter. Before she left she reached into her purse and withdrew a picture. In it Alyssa was laying on her back on a blanket in their living room. Her bright eyes almost outshined the smile she was giving the camera. Brennan stood, and placed the photo on Booth's table. She had meant to give it to him earlier. Now, since he missed her so much, at least he would have a picture to look at. She made a mental note to speak with Rebecca and get a picture of Parker for him, as well.

With a kiss on his forehead, she headed home.

* * *

Booth woke up suddenly from his deep sleep. He opened his eyes, but didn't move a muscle. His body felt like it weighed five hundred pounds. Though he'd slept he still felt flat out exhausted. So why had he woken up?

His eyes went to his window. The sun was just beginning to set outside. How long had he been out? Why was he here? Involuntarily he shuddered as his memory reminded him where he'd been all at once. Tightly he shut his eyes, waiting for Amanda to begin berating him.

Only, for the first time in years, she was silent.


	82. Making A Friend

Author's Note: Lyrics used are "One Day I'll Fly Away" from the movie Moulin Rouge.

* * *

"_We have a real problem."_

_Booth opened his eyes. As much as he could, anyway. After her last attack she'd dumped some sort of solution on his face. It'd made his skin tingle and his eyes burn with pain. He'd been doing his best to keep them shut ever since. God only knew if he still had sight. Being in the dark basement didn't help him determine anything._

_He remained silent. Amanda stood up. He could sense her pulling on her clothes. "Wouldn't you like to know what the problem is?"_

_Staying quiet was safer, he reasoned. He laid his head back down on the floor and closed his eyes._

"_I'm pregnant."_

_He froze. His eyes popped back open. All along he knew when she'd forcefully taken him she'd never taken any precautions. But this was something he hadn't expected. A child? Being born into this? He couldn't fathom it. He was dumb founded._

"_I'm going to take care of it."_

_His heart both stopped and exploded at the same time._

"_But I just thought you should know, since it's all your fault." The floor echoed her steps as she moved towards the stairs. "And don't think this means our fun is going to stop. I have plenty more in store for you."_

He was already trembling when he emerged from his dream back into real life. Booth sat up immediately. Shaking hands rubbed the sweat off his forehead and face. His shirt and the bed sheets were also victims from his dream. Untangling himself, he left his bed to look out the window of his hospital room. The night had taken over the world. His eyes turned downwards towards the parking lot. Few cars remained. He briefly entertained the idea of jumping, knowing the bars on the window made his thought impossible. It was probably a good thing, given the way he was feeling, he reasoned.

The soft voice of a woman singing entered his mind. Only he couldn't tell if it was an apparition or real.

I follow the night - can't stand the light

When will I begin to live again?

Booth exhaled out his pain. Amanda's fleeting pregnancy was something no one knew about. Not even Brennan. It was a shameful secret he kept close to his heart every day: the baby that wasn't meant to be. He knew things were better off that way. Any baby born under such circumstances would never have had a real decent life. Though Booth knew had it happened, and he'd been able to escape, he would have taken the child with him and loved him (or her) with all his heart and strength. But Amanda "taking care of it" was something he still unreasonably took the blame for. After all this time he still felt sick about it.

He had to imagine he was dreaming of it now because of his therapy. Well, that was something they would never get out of him. He'd die before he'd let Brennan know what he'd done.

He remained in the window for quite some time as he thought. When he couldn't take it anymore he began to wander the unit. Since he'd slept so much, and was experiencing so much emotional turmoil, he was wired. During his rounds he continued to hear the same voice singing out to him. There was a Greek myth Brennan had told him of once, of mermaid like women who sang out to shipwrecked sailors. Sirens, she had called them. This he thought of now while he paid close attention to what he was hearing. The voice was real and not in his head, he was sure of it the longer he listened. His curiosity got the best of him. He followed his siren.

One day I'll fly away

Leave all this to yesterday

What more could your love do for me

When will love be through with me

Riley was sitting on the floor in the hall outside her room once again. Her knees were drawn up to her chest. She appeared to be both saddened and exhausted. The song she sang in her soprano voice was both beautiful and heart breaking. Booth pondered what kind of day she had had.

He sat himself down across from her and leaned his back against the wall. She smiled at him, but there was extreme sorrow behind her eyes. She continued to sing, this time straight to him.

Why live life from dream to dream

And dread the day when dreaming ends

"Don't you ever sleep?" Booth asked by way of greeting.

"Not very often. And not much." She tilted her head in worry. "I didn't wake you, did I? I thought I was being quiet."

"You didn't." He decided he wouldn't even mention his nightmare. "I woke up on my own. I slept a lot today."

"I noticed you weren't around. You know, you've never told me your name."

"You know my name."

"Yeah, I do. But you never told me yourself."

He couldn't help but to smile a little. "Booth."

"Odd name."

"It's my last name. I don't use my first name very much. Not since I graduated high school, anyway."

"Well, _Booth, _I missed you today."

He stiffened.

"In a friendly way!"

"Why?" He couldn't help but to ask. "You don't even know me."

"I know. _No one_ really seems to know you. You don't participate in group. You don't talk to anyone. It makes me want to get to know you. I don't know." She shrugged. "I'm perverse."

He could tell Riley was wiggling her way in. The more they talked the more he felt himself warming up to her. "With the exception of my wife I try to keep everyone shut out. That's just the way it has to be."

"Why?"

In his mind he rolled her question around. _Why? _Was he ready to tell someone who wasn't a therapist his story? "Something bad happened to me. It's hard for me to trust people. Especially women."

"What happened? Did your heart get stomped on or something?"

Booth spoke, but someone else took over. That glazed look formed in his eyes. "I was abducted and abused, physically and sexually."

Riley gasped. Her hand flew up to her mouth. "Oh, my God." Her voice wavered. "You poor dude."

"It lasted for a year before I was able to break out. She kept me paralyzed off of sedatives most of the time. The abuse has just… messed up my mind. I've been diagnosed with a bunch of mental disorders, and epilepsy. I've tried to kill myself a dozen times."

"Me too." She ran her hand over her wrist. For the first time he noticed a stitched scar. In response he pushed his hair back and showed her the scar left over from where the bullet he'd shot to take his own life had skimmed his skin. Laughing, she cried. He smiled a little back at her.

"I hope that bitch got jail time." She sniffed.

"Didn't have to." He swallowed. "I killed her."

"Good. Good riddance." She shook her head fiercely. "No one like that should be allowed to walk this earth."

Booth appreciated the anger she showed for a man she basically didn't know. He began to open up to her a little bit more. "I'm still alive, but I feel like I've lost my life. I wonder a lot if this therapy will ever help me. The urges I get to hurt myself aren't as strong but… if it weren't for my family, I'd be dead. I wouldn't live like this."

Riley nodded. "Sometimes I feel like, "why me?" Why does God keep me alive when he could take it and use it save the life of some little kid who has cancer, or something." She blushed, embarrassed by her crazy outburst.

"I understand," Booth said simply. And he did. "But it doesn't work like that."

A tear fell from her eye. "I don't have an epic story, like you do. I'm bipolar. That's why I chose to go into psychiatry. I thought I could learn about myself, and why I am the way I am, and use that knowledge to help others." She shrugged. "I don't have any real reason for my issues, except I'm messed up. My life's okay. I'm doing well in school. My parents are divorced, and I really don't get along with my dad, but that's not unusual anymore, right?" More tears fell. "Maybe that's why I keep getting myself involved with these abusive guys."

Booth's ears perked up. The old FBI agent in him was awoken. "Your boyfriend hits you?"

She shook her head yes. "I tried to kill myself. That's how I ended up here." She glanced down to her wound again. "I can't escape him. I'd just had enough. I'm sorry I lived, but at least now I'll get some time away from him to figure out what to do next."

"Riley," he said softly. To both of their surprises he reached for her hand, and held it. Booth shivered nervously for a brief moment. This was the first woman he'd shown any sign of affection to since Brennan. But with Riley, it felt right. And so he went with it. "You need to tell your doctor. They can do things to get you out of this."

She eyed him. "You look ready to punch someone."

"I'd hit him, if I could." He wasn't ashamed to admit it.

"I can see why your wife loves you so much. You're an awesome guy."

He had to turn his head away. He certainly didn't feel "awesome," after the hell he'd put her through.

"You have to survive this, Booth. Killing yourself is just giving her the upper hand."

"I know." He breathed. "I've been told that before by other people. But it's hard to remind myself of that when I can't sleep at night, and she's in my head making me remember. She tries to convince me that I wanted the abuse. That I wanted the se-" He choked on his words. Though he couldn't make eye contact he let himself continue after a brief pause. "Then I start second guessing myself. My memories get all mixed up and distorted. Did I fight as hard as I could have? Was I okay with it, because I just wanted to feel something besides pain? I mean, sometimes I…" He grit his teeth. "The whole thing… I responded…"

"What? You came?" She saw him slink back away from her. His eyes shut tight. She squeezed his hand. "That isn't your fault. Geez, the human body acts by itself sometimes without assistance from the mind. You shouldn't feel guilty about that."

Booth's breathing hitched. When he dared to let himself look back at her, tears blurred his sight. His voice was an octave below a whisper. "I didn't want it."

"I know." She said gently. "I like, really want to give you a hug right now. Can I?"

He pondered it for a moment before shaking his head. "No."

"Okay." She noticed their hands were still joined. "Can I keep holding your hand?"

He seemed to be becoming aware of their connection for the first time as well. "Yeah. I can… that's all right."

Together they sat, their hands forming a link across the otherwise deserted hallway. And in that moment, neither one felt quite so hopeless. Or alone.


	83. Booth's Day Off

"Okay, so, your house is on fire."

"Riley. No."

"Seriously! Your house is on fire. What do you save? Wife and children aren't an option. They've already made it out safely."

Booth spooned some cereal into his mouth. "How 'bout pets?" He was being, of course, sarcastic.

"Duh. That's a given."

He chuckled to himself. "I don't know. There's so much I wouldn't be able to stand to leave behind. Family mementos that got passed down to me. Alyssa and Parker's baby pictures. My pop's dog tags from when he served in the military."

"Huh." She blinked. "I was just going to say my Ipod, and my stuffed dog I've had since I was a child."

"You'd run into a burning building to save your Ipod?"

"I have like three thousand songs on it! Are you kidding me? Besides, by my rules my kitten and my snake are already safe."

He dropped his spoon. "You have a snake?"

"Hey, Booth! Hurry up and eat!" A nurse called to him. "Your therapist is waiting on you."

Three days had passed since Booth and Riley's hallway conversation. Their encounter had brought them into a reluctant friendship. Riley followed Booth around anytime he was out of his room. She sat besides him while he sat out of group therapy. He allowed it, for the first time not minding the company. Sometimes she jabbered non stop. Others, she just seemed to be contently quiet being in his presence. He didn't push her to talk, nor did she him. If they felt like sharing whatever was troubling them, then they did. Because of that they forged a bond.

Therapy had been getting rougher for Booth. Dr. Wylan was pushing all the right buttons to get Booth to speak out. Brennan continued to sit in on their meetings, offering silent support. At times she spoke adamant rebuttals to whatever mixed up belief of guilt he shared. One instance the pressure grew to be too much, and he'd been forced to remove himself for a while. But he joined them again sometime later, and continued to show up regularly.

His biggest trouble was still attempting to sleep at night, despite Amanda being missing in action. Since his first breakthrough in therapy he hadn't heard her voice once. However nothing helped his nightmares, or his memories. Fitfully he would be able to rest for a few hours at a time before he'd wake up crying or screaming, and always sweating.

"They're chomping at the bit." Riley muttered, ripping her English muffin into pieces.

"I'm an important guy." He joked.

"I hate your therapy. I'm so bored when you're not around."

"Well," he stood. He lifted his empty cereal bowl off of the table. "I hate my therapy, too."

"Later." She snickered at his retreating back. Booth dumped his bowl into a plastic bin set aside for dirty breakfast dishes. He stopped at the nurses' desk before heading to Dr. Wylan's office. A nurse handed him a paper cup with pills in it along with another paper up of water. Down he swallowed them both like he was doing shots at a bar. Dr. Wylan had agreed to switch his medication. Slowly he was being tapered off the Valium and soon onto something new. In a way Booth couldn't wait. He looked forward to feeling better than he did, no matter how slight.

He marched into Dr. Wylan's office with his shoulders back, ready for action. The sooner they could get started then the sooner he could get it over with. Which was why he was surprised to see Brennan standing up next to the couch with her coat still on. Dr. Wylan was seated at his desk, like he always was, but he was filling out paperwork instead of readying himself for their session. "Hey." He planted a quick kiss on Brennan's cheek. "What's going on?"

"You're leaving." She told him. Dr. Wylan's head snapped up.

Booth could have been knocked over with a feather. "Re-really?"

"Not exactly." Dr. Wylan got up. "As a reward for all the hard work you've been doing, you're getting a day pass. You can spend the day with Dr. Brennan doing whatever you like, but you have to be back by seven o'clock this evening." He walked out from behind his desk. "When we switch over your medication in the next few days things are going to become very hectic for you. I want you to be able to have a break before that happens. So go out and enjoy yourself today."

Booth's eyes were huge with excitement. He was speechless. He grinned at Brennan. "Then lets go. What are we waiting for?"

Brennan beamed back at his exuberance. She signed the appropriate forms to release him into her custody. Then they were out of his office, off of the unit, and out of the hospital all together. Booth stopped just outside the doors. He tilted his head back and enjoyed the feeling of the sun's rays warming his face. It was the little things like these that he missed. Having freedom meant a lot more when it was taken away.

He sat down in the passenger seat besides her in her car. She put the key in the ignition but didn't turn it. "So, it's your day. What would you like to do? We can do anything, go anywhere…"

His response was instant. "I want to go home and see Alyssa. And later I want to see Parker."

She was pleased with his answer. Home she drove them. Booth practically had his nose pressed against the window during the entire drive. _This is the Booth I know, _she smiled in satisfaction. _He's coming back. We're finding him again._

He was out of the car before she'd even come to a complete stop in the driveway. Rapidly she threw the car into park and hopped out. "Booth!"

He wasn't listening. He was absorbing everything around him as though he were seeing it for the first time. "I can't wait until I can come home for good, Bones."

"Me either. Come on." She tangled her arm around his. "Lets go see your daughter."

Inside the house keeper Brennan had hired met them immediately. Brennan made introductions. "You can go home today," she told her. "Booth and I will be here with Alyssa."

"Where is she?" Booth asked.

"In her nursery." The house keeper answered. While Brennan handed her money for her services Booth left them behind. He galloped upstairs to her room. The house keeper giggled to Brennan. "Mister excited to see his baby, no?"

"He's very excited." Brennan agreed.

The door to Alyssa's room was slightly ajar. Booth pushed it open and let himself inside. His baby was sleeping in her crib. A mobile over head played a twinkling lullaby as small stuffed moons and stars with sleepy expressions rotated in a circle around her.

Booth leaned over the side of the crib and watched her. She slept peacefully, curled up on her back with her stuffed bunny laying besides her. Tenderly he ran the tips of his fingers over her soft, pudgy cheeks. The simple motion stirred her. She opened her eyes and looked straight at him. Booth braced himself. It'd been a while since she'd seen him. Would she remember him?

His fear was short lived. Alyssa cooed with delight. She extended her arms up to him. Booth became teary eyed. "Hey, baby," he whispered. Lovingly he picked her up into his arms. "Daddy missed you so much." He kissed her cheek.

The rocking chair was practically begging them for attention. Booth sat down in it, cradling Alyssa in his arms. She curled up right against his chest. "I'm so sorry I'm not around more for you," he kept on talking to her as though she could understand. "I will be though. Soon. I promise. There's so much I need to catch up on with you. I hope you'll forgive me."

"She doesn't understand, Booth." Brennan was suddenly in the doorway.

"Yes, she does." He argued back seriously.

Brennan watched his behavior with her, and vice versa. "She's already a daddy's girl."

He glanced up at her. There was a light shining in his eyes. "I love her so much. I'm so sorry, Bones. I'm so sorry."

"You can't help it." She reminded him. "I don't blame you, Booth. I never have."

"I blame me."

"Someday you won't." She touched his shoulder. "And then you'll be able to come home permanently."

"You still want me?"

"I'll always want you. That's a constant. It's never changed. It never will."

Alyssa was falling back to sleep. Booth placed her back down in her crib. He turned back to Brennan. "Thank you, Bones." He ran a hand over her cheek and affectionately through her hair. Brennan tried to control an urge to kiss him, but couldn't. She closed in the gap between them and pressed her lips against his.

He kissed back. His hand left her hair and wrapped around her back to pull her closer to him. She indicated her interest to push things further in her kiss. She wouldn't do it on her own. The reins were in his hands. The two hadn't made love since before Booth had started therapy. Now that he was being forced to relive his sexual abuse, she wasn't sure how he would feel about sex or how he would react.

His tongue flittered past her lips. She took it as a sign. Cautiously she ran her hands up underneath his shirt. There she caressed every inch of skin on his chest. He shivered, but it was with pleasure, not fear. "We should… continue this in the bedroom," he said to her in a breathless whisper.

It didn't take long for either one of them to lose their clothing as they stepped over the threshold of their bedroom. Booth laid her down in bed. As he removed what was left of her garments he kissed the places where his hands went. The tease was testing Brennan. The separation between them had been as hard on her as it had on him. She'd wanted him like this for a long time, and had worried she'd never see this side of him again.

When his hand dropped below her waist line while his lips and tongue danced their way across her chest, she couldn't take it anymore. "I want you," she murmured unconsciously.

He lifted himself to her level. "Yeah?" He asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"Can you?" She panted. "I don't want to… set you back." He'd driven her breathless. Her senses felt on fire. She couldn't remember the last time she felt so much desire for him.

His mouth devoured hers for his answer. His hand continued to explore her. She could no longer help but to moan out loud. Then abruptly he stopped. "Bones. I don't have anything… I don't know that we have anything here…"

No protection. The logical Brennan would have stopped everything right then. She would have assured him it was all right, and that they would pick this up another time. But this woman, the one who was being driven wild by her husband, who hadn't so much as seen her husband's bare chest in what had been too long of a time, quite frankly, didn't care. She pulled him down inside her, instantly realizing she was mirroring Amanda's actions. "Booth? Are you all right? We can stop."

He just kissed her instead of responding. She held onto his back. "I love you."

"I love you, Bones."

They made love until they were too exhausted to move. Then they laid together, both glowing with sweat and happiness. Brennan laid her head down on his chest. His heart beat pulsed a strong, steady rhythm underneath her ear. "Are you all right?" She inquired. He hadn't given her any reason to think otherwise; that he'd been remembering abuse while they'd been together. But then again, Booth was excellent at hiding his problems.

"I'm good," he under toned. "Thanks to you."

The two tiredly drifted off in one another's arms.


	84. Savior

"Okay, Booth. This is my plan for the road ahead. As of today you have been officially weaned off the Valium. Tomorrow I want to start you on Depakote. It's very similar to Valium in some ways, in that it should control your seizures and lessen your depression. Hopefully this will be more beneficial than the Valium was."

Booth was only slightly listening to Dr. Wylan. The trouble with the doctor's office was that it had a window looking out onto the outdoors. His eyes had been drawn there almost since he sat down. Therapy wasn't on his mind, especially considering Brennan wasn't there. She'd had a meeting. Dr. Wylan had felt comfortable enough for the two of them to forge ahead without her.

Booth wasn't wild about it. But then again, he wasn't too keen on anything. He'd woken up that morning frustrated. Yesterday, after spending time with his wife and Alyssa, Brennan had taken him to visit Parker before heading back to the hospital. He and his son had gone on a long hike together. Parker had a multitude of different questions which he hadn't been afraid to assault his father with. "Why are you in the hospital?"

Booth had startled. He'd had no idea what to say, and realized he should have expected this. "I have some health issues, buddy. It's nothing to worry about. I'll be home soon."

"Mom said your mind is mixed up."

_Thank you, Rebecca. _"It's a little more complicated than that."

"Well, you said you're getting out soon? Does that mean we can spend more time together?"

"Of course."

Parker had stopped talking then for a moment. "Does this have anything to do with the year you were missing?"

Swallowing, Booth nodded. "It has _everything _to do with that, Parker."

When it came time to leave he could hardly bear to leave his son. Rebecca promised to call him with updates. But it wasn't enough. Now that Booth had been allowed a taste of freedom, to remember what it was like to be on the outside, he craved more of it. He'd been working hard, and yet no one seemed to think he was ready to be discharged. He was beginning to wonder if he would ever be.

"Booth?"

"Yeah," he grumbled. "Fine."

"You seem agitated today. Is it because Dr. Brennan isn't here?"

_No. I'm agitated because _I _don't want to be here. _"No. Lets just start already if we're gonna."

Dr. Wylan pressed his lips together. "Okay. We've talked extensively about the first time Amanda sexually abused you. We've recalled the physical actions that took place. Today I want to go to work on the emotions. Can you tell me how you felt?"

"How do you think I felt?" Booth snarled back before he could restrain himself. Inwardly, he winced. Outwardly he continued to glare on like he wasn't sorry. But Dr. Wylan still must have been thinking his patient had taken a large step backwards.

"Booth, are you sure you're all right?"

He disregarded his question. "I felt scared and ashamed, all right?"

"Okay. That's good to start with. Lets push it further."

Booth was having a difficult time keeping himself in his seat. He just wasn't in the mood for this today. He didn't want to live out his abduction any longer. By his own standard he was ready to leave and go home for good. "I don't want to."

There must have been something in his voice, because for once Dr. Wylan didn't continue to push. "Can you tell me about the events leading up to that moment? Was there something you did or said that prompted the attack?"

_Booth had finally almost done it. His muscles quivered with strain as he pulled himself up onto the window sill. The lock on the window keeping him in the basement had finally broken, after an extreme amount of tampering with it. If he could just lift himself up and crawl out, he'd be free._

_His chest had just hit the edge when a powerful jolt knocked him down onto the floor. Through blurry vision he saw Amanda charging up another round on her stun gun. "You just don't learn." The air snapped with static charge as she pressed the device into his side again. Uncontrollably he convulsed. Panting, he weakly watched her._

"_I'm really surprised. After all this time I thought I'd finally broken you." She left him briefly, joining him again with the bloody pair of hand cuffs she used any time she restrained him. Booth tensed up, but knew, especially now in his condition, there was absolutely nothing he could do. Not that that would stop him from fighting._

_She dragged his incapacitated body away from the window. Over his head she restrained his hands. Then she dropped down by his side. "After this, you will be."_

"Booth?" Dr. Wylan sat forward. Right in the middle of his story Booth had abruptly stopped. His eyes had glazed over. His stare was blank. This was too painful for him, and without Brennan there to link him to reality, he'd shrunk away. When he returned from his state he was more depressed than ever. "I'm sorry. I just… I can't do this today." He stood and promptly excited the room.

Dr. Wylan called after him, but it was no use. In his chart, he marked, _patient has seemed to have entered a depressive episode._

* * *

Before Booth could get very far he was called to the nurses' desk for his medicine. "Here's to more meds that don't work," he cheered with the paper cup as he swallowed them.

"Buck up, soldier." The nurse smiled. Booth shook his head and walked away. He was done with this place; the doctors and staff. He was well enough to go home. His issues didn't need to be brought out into the light anymore. He was better, damn it! Why wasn't anyone else able to see that?

Of course, he wasn't.

His plan was to head back to his room to sleep for the rest of the day. Perhaps the rest of the week, if he could get away with it. But fate intervened. He was walking past the day room when he glimpsed Riley sitting on the floor. She was isolated away from the others, which wasn't unusual. Her knees were drawn up towards her chest. Laying in between them, concealed, was her wrist. Her right hand was holding an object which she was using to mutilate the wound stitched in her skin. Booth gasped. He rushed inside. "Riley," he bent down on knee besides her. "Where'd you get that?" Now he could see the item was a sharpened piece of metal.

"I stole it," she said vaguely in a despondent voice.

"What are you doing?"

Her eyes filled with tears. But she didn't cry. "You know what I'm doing. I can't do this anymore."

"You should give that to me." He gestured to the metal object.

"Why? So you can use it instead? I don't think so."

Booth exhaled. "Come on, Ry. Think about it. You're not going to be successful. Staff is going to find you and stick you in isolation or something else just as bad. It's not worth it."

"No one cares," she continued. "Why should I? Have you noticed not one person has even come to visit me? Not even my stupid boyfriend." A tear slipped down her cheek.

"I care." Booth shot back. He actually was glad Riley's boyfriend hadn't been by. He couldn't guarantee he wouldn't hit the man the minute he saw him.

"When I get out of here I'll be back to the same old crap. Nothing ever changes. There's no point."

"Yeah, there is. Did you tell your therapist about the abuse?"

She shook her head no. "What good can they do? A restraining order? He'll laugh at it."

"You need to tell them anyway. And if nothing else I'll keep you safe."

"How?" She laughed.

He couldn't believe what he was volunteering. "Look, I was an FBI agent. I can protect you. If you have to live with my family or something to keep you safe, then you will."

Her eyes were wide O shapes. "You'd… you'd do that?"

He wasn't sure how Brennan would feel about it, but he nodded anyway.

Reluctantly, she placed the metal in his hand.

"Thank you," he whispered. For a while he sat with her before determining she was safe. Then he headed to his room, pocketing the metal. Not that he intended to use it. He would save it and expose of it when he could do so without drawing attention.

He laid down in his bed, closing his eyes. It occurred to him that he had just "talked Riley down" when he wasn't so sure he was sold on living at that moment himself. He'd promised to keep her safe. The question was, could he keep himself safe?


	85. Trying To Find The Way

For the next few days Booth had difficulty finding Riley. She wasn't in her room when he checked in for her. She didn't join him in the day room, or at meal times. It was as though she'd vanished into thin air. Booth found himself disliking being solitary. It was ironic, he ruminated, since he'd been so opposed to Riley's presence in the beginning. Her personality had rubbed off on him, and now he was missing her. And worried. Given their last conversation he pondered whether she'd done something to injure herself.

He tried not to think too much about her while he carried on his usual viewing of group therapy. He felt unsettled, knowing so much of others' personal lives but offering nothing of his own. The idea of speaking up though was still too frightening. Dealing with his demons in private was one thing. But airing them out for the entire world to see was entirely different. Yet the guilt was building up.

Many patients had both left and joined the group while he'd been admitted. The arrivals stared at him until they got used to his attendance. Older patients ignored him all together. When he'd first arrived at the hospital he'd tried so hard not to be seen. Without Riley to share his feelings with he was now regretting his decision. So, at the start of one of the sessions, he stepped forward and sat down in a chair. The idle gossip of the group ceased. Even the therapist was stunned. "Lets get started…" She stammered.

The group went around in a circle introducing themselves. Booth was a picture of serenity on the outside. But inside he was panicking. What had he done? Why had he done it? Was he ready for this? Did he really want to share his story with strangers? Before he knew it the attention had shifted to him. He couldn't make eye contact with any of them. His words spilled out in a jumble. "My name's Booth. I'm here because I have a lot of problems. I was abusing prescription meds to try and deal with them." It was all he permitted himself to say. It seemed to be enough. The group welcomed him warmly.

Booth said no more. But he'd taken the first step. Just as they were wrapping things up there was a disturbance in the hallway. Riley's shrill voice hit Booth like a rock. "You'll NEVER make me go back in there! I hate you! I hate you all! I'm going to kill myself and there isn't going to be a damn thing anyone can do about it!"

Booth tried to remain nonchalant. But he dove out of his chair and towards the open door. A unit guard stopped him before he could proceed further. "You can't go out there."

He tried to see past him. "Why not? She's upset. I could help her." His protest did no good. No one was allowed outside until Riley had vacated the area. Booth casually made his way to her room, figuring she had to be there. She was. Her door had been left slightly ajar, and he could hear her inside banging her possessions around. "Ry?" He called quietly, hoping none of the staff heard him.

"Go away, Booth."

He wouldn't be deterred easily. "Are you all right? What happened? Where have you been?"

"I said GO AWAY!"

Booth receded. He walked back to his own room, both confused and hurt.

* * *

"Booth spoke up in group therapy today."

Brennan didn't feign her utter astonishment. "He did?"

Dr. Wylan nodded. "I wasn't present. But Dr. James informed me afterwards. He didn't say much. But we've gotten him heading back in the right direction."

It seemed unlikely after the way Booth's last few private therapy sessions had went. He'd walked out of each one, growing severely agitated with Dr. Wylan's line of questioning. The deeper they divulged into the sexual abuse, the more Booth began to balk. It hadn't seemed to matter if Brennan had been present or not. The issues they'd uncovered had become too much for him.

"Can I see him?"

"If he's out and about, sure."

Even if Booth was in his room Brennan planned on seeing him. Funny enough, that was exactly where she ended up. Booth was laying down in bed. It was hard to discern whether he was sleeping or just resting. Brennan used this to her advantage. She snuck to his bedside. Up close she could see his chest rise and fall with rhythmic breathing. Unfortunately, she could also see the blackened circles that had built up under his eyes from sleepless nights. It hadn't been noticeable before, but now she could see he'd been losing weight again. The thin fabric of his shirt revealed the outline of his rib cage, including each individual bone. "Booth." She touched his chest.

His chest muscles clenched. He opened his eyes tiredly. "Bones. Hi." He breathed softly.

"Hi. How are you?" She hoped for a positive answer.

He shrugged back at her.

"Dr. Wylan told me you spoke up today in group therapy."

He nodded. "I've had a lot of time to think without Riley being around."

Riley? Was this one of this doctors? It was the first time the name had come up. "Who's Riley?"

"She's one of my friends. She'd been helping me through stuff."

_She? _Brennan felt a sudden twinge of jealousy. "Oh. Well, where has she been?"

"I don't know." His eyes shut again. His voice was sluggish, seeming to mirror his thought process. "She came back from where ever she was today. She yelled at me to go away. Twice." There was evident pain in his voice. Again, Brennan found herself with a burning pain in her chest. Just how much had this Riley helped him? Had she done more than Brennan had ever been able to? Why hadn't she heard of her before? "Do you know why?"

"No." Silently he thought back to the piece of metal he'd confiscated from her. "Maybe."

"Why?"

He shut her down. "I don't want to talk about it." Riley's business was her own. Eventually Booth would tell Brennan all about his experience with the young woman, including the sharpened tool. But not while they all were still in the hospital. It was too risky, for Riley's sake.

Brennan was left to think the worst. She stared down at her hands. There would never be a day that she didn't trust Booth with her life. Or her heart. But Riley was suspicious to her. She questioned the woman's intentions. Booth's lack of details about their friendship didn't ease her mind, either. "I'm proud of you for talking to the other patients." She tried to get them back on topic.

"I'm trying, Bones. I know it seems like I'm not. I know I have my bad days." He forced his eyes open again. "But I'm really trying. I want to come home to you and Alyssa. I get that this is the only way."

"That's right. I know how difficult therapy is for you. Especially now."

He nodded. "He's forcing me to relive all of it."

"It's the only way you'll move forward." She agreed. She watched as he settled himself down underneath his covers again. While she knew he wasn't sleeping, was this sudden desire for rest a defense mechanism? She squinted at him. Or was something else going on? "Are you feeling well?"

"Yeah. I just haven't been sleeping." His tone suggested otherwise. She decided it was best to leave him in peace. Tenderly she kissed his forehead before departing the room. However, before she left for good she chose to check in with Dr. Wylan one more time. How long had it been since Booth had had a physical?

* * *

Booth was awake by the time dinner rolled around. He sat down at a table without food. His stomach ached, and lately he just hadn't been all that interested in food. Or eating. Still he sat with the others to demonstrate the effort he was making. He'd meant what he'd said to Brennan. He was truly trying. He'd set his eyes on the prize and wouldn't stop until he got what he wanted. In this case, it was to get better and be released so he could go home and hold Alyssa in his arms. For good.

Riley arrived moments later. Booth saw her, but didn't so much as get up. He didn't need to. As soon as she received her tray of food she sat herself down across from him. "Look, I'm sorry for this morning. I shouldn't have yelled at you."

Booth heard her words. But he was focusing on her arms. The entire flesh along both of her forearms was covered in strawberry gashes. Some were bandaged. Others were stitched. What hadn't been cut burned a seething red color. "Riley… what'd you do?"

She stared down at her tray. Tears shimmered in her eyes. "I couldn't take it anymore. Things aren't going to get better, Booth. I'm stupid for letting these brain washers convince me that they would. I'm better off dead."

"That's not true."

"I'm sick." She shot back in a fierce tone. "I'm always going to have this mental illness. If I'm never going to feel better then why should I even try?"

"Because you will," he insisted. "You have to have hope. I know you're going through some tough stuff. We both are. But you gotta have hope that things are gonna be better than this. That you can feel better than this. You will. We _both _will." He grasped her hand. "You just gotta hold on until that happens. But we'll get to something better."

"Whatever that is." She laughed.

"Right." He smiled. "It'll be okay."

Suddenly Riley's back straightened. Her eyes widened. She released Booth's hand. The color in her features turned pure white. Booth could tell she was frightened. "What? What'd I say?"

"It's not you." She wasn't looking at him, rather beyond him. Booth twisted in his seat to see a man just outside the dining room's window. He was buff, with a tight black muscle tee showing off well built arms. He was grimacing while he spoke to a doctor. "What? Him?" Booth had a sick feeling he knew who the stranger was.

"My boyfriend." She trembled.


	86. Letting Go Of The Past

"All right, Booth. Over all how have you been feeling lately?"

"I don't know. Tired, I guess. More than usual."

Dr. Gherkins jotted down Booth's words into his chart. The folder had grown to be thicker than an inch and was ripped in the corners from so much use. The sight of it alone depressed Booth. He was sick of doctors, and the hospital in general. His eyes floated over to Brennan's. He tried to convey his silent message to her. _Why are you doing this?_

He'd been woken first thing in the morning to be brought into an exam room for a physical. All night he'd tossed and turned in his small twin sized bed. Riley had been led away during dinner by her doctor. The group, including Riley's boyfriend, had disappeared and never returned. Before turning in for the night Booth had searched every crook and nanny for them, to no avail. Finally he had to give up in defeat.

"Could be a little anemic. We'll do some blood work." Dr. Gherkins stood before his patient. Carefully he checked Booth over, feeling along his skin for any lumps, bumps, or anything else abnormal. Booth squirmed. This was ridiculous. Nothing was wrong with him. So what if he was tired. Considering the intense therapy he was involved in it wasn't surprising. His mood and thoughts turned sour.

Dr. Gherkins probed his fingers along Booth's stomach area. A quick jolt of pain let off a snort of protest Booth didn't intend to make. The doctor raised his eyes. "That hurts?" Brennan sat up.

Booth said nothing, refusing to incriminate himself. He twisted away when Dr. Gherkins went for a second try. Again there was a jab of pain. He frowned. "We should do some testing-"

Booth had enough. He hopped down off the table, and pulled his shirt back on over his shoulders. "No. No more testing. You're not doing anything to me." He banged out the door before either of them could protest. It slammed against the wall from the force.

He stalked down the hall towards his room. Or maybe Riley's. Maybe now he would be able to find her. The worry he'd felt returned ten fold. For him it was easier to be concerned with her than his own problems.

The sound of his name being called did little to stop him. Brennan finally cut into his path. He stopped to avoid hitting her. "What is this?" He snapped before she could begin. "You wake me up first thing in the morning for this?"

"I had to. I know you're not feeling well, Booth. I can see it in you."

"I feel fine."

"You're lying to me." Her voice was disappointed. "You've lost weight-"

"I'm not hearing this." He tried to move past her. She refused to let him. "You've lost weight. You're not sleeping."

"I'm in therapy, Bones. Of course its having an effect on me."

"I think it's something more."

Both his heart and adrenaline raced in anger. "You ever think, Bones, that maybe it's you who's not letting me move on?"

He couldn't have hurt her worse, even if he'd physically struck her. "What?" She asked in almost a whisper.

"Every time I so much as breathe wrong you're ready to rush me to a damn doctor."

She stepped backwards. "Booth, your body has been through and survived a substantial amount of damage. You almost died of cancer," she reminded him. "Cancer that exacerbated because we didn't catch it in time. We mistook it for other symptoms."

"I'm fine."

"Remission isn't always permanent. I'm not risking your life with this."

"I'm _fine _now." He shook his head angrily. "I can't go forward if you keep making me live in the past."

"This is your _life, _Booth."

"Whatever." He successfully maneuvered his way around her. He noticed this time she didn't follow. Booth toured the unit until he located the man he recognized as Riley's doctor. "Where's Riley?" He questioned, not bothering with introducing himself or even so much as a hello.

"She was discharged last night. Her boyfriend signed her out and took her home. They are looking into long term options for the rest of her care."

Booth inwardly gasped. His stomach ached as though someone had punched it repeatedly. _Long term? Like death? _"How could you do that? He beats her."

"Nothing was ever mentioned in therapy of domestic abuse."

"She was too afraid to say anything! She didn't think you'd help."

"Booth, I think you need to realize that patients here don't always tell the truth. They lie to others, and lie to themselves so successfully that they come to believe it. You can't fall for everything you hear."

Booth couldn't fathom what he was being told. He knew what he had seen, and what he had heard. Riley's fear was real. He certainly would be one to know. He'd experienced the same type. And Riley's own doctor was accusing her of lying?

"Besides, unless there is obvious physical abuse, which there wasn't, the patient has to-"

From that point Booth walked away. It was pointless to argue. Minds were already made up. He retreated back to his room and curled up in his bed.

Riley was gone.

* * *

The rest of the morning passed by while he was buried underneath his covers. Just before therapy a nurse arrived in his room to retrieve a blood sample. Booth briefly considered fighting, but changed his mind. The woman didn't deserve it. She was simply trying to do her job. So he sat up and held still while she tied off his arm and pushed a needle into his vein. He tried to remain stoic, and not wince at a memory that jumped into his thoughts.

Afterwards he was paged for therapy. Brennan and Dr. Wylan were waiting in his office. Booth sat down on the far end of the couch by the door. He wouldn't look at either one of them, or speak. Various ways Dr. Wylan used to coax words out of him. None of it worked. Booth simply wasn't allowing himself to be receptive. "Booth? What happened?"

"He's angry with me." Brennan supplied for him.

Dr. Wylan's eyes darted back and forth between them. "Did something happen?"

"I want to go home." Booth blurted. "I'm done. This is over."

"No, it's not, actually."

Booth shot up to his feet. "How much further are you going to make me go? How much further _can _I go? I'm not suicidal anymore. I've been taking my pills. I'm in recovery."

"I hear you're not sleeping or eating. Those aren't signs of someone who's reached recovery from fierce psychological trauma."

He had a strong desire to argue. But if he did, his point would switch to Brennan's side, being that something was physically wrong with him. He was damned either way. "I know what's best for me," he finally said after a period of silence. "And what's best for me is to get the hell out of here."

"I'm sorry but I don't believe you do. Don't forget, your idea of what was best for you when you arrived was taking sedatives to keep yourself in a constant stupor." Dr. Wylan also stood. "You were repeating what Amanda did to you, only it was to avoid your issues."

"No. I'm ready to go home. It's the two of you who keep holding onto the past." Again he found himself turning his back on his care takers. He left without looking back. Brennan and Dr. Wylan sat in a baffled silence. "He's right, you know." Brennan guarded her words. "He's gone as far as he's going to go."

"Dr. Brennan, he's-"

"Not ready for more. He just isn't ready yet. And is it really fair to make him wait here? He said it himself. He's not suicidal. Why can't he return here during the day and come home with me in the evening?"

Dr. Wylan mulled it over. "He has shown a lot of improvement. I guess we could try it. But he would _have _to come back here every morning. No excuses."

Brennan was immediate in agreement. Booth had gave, and now they needed to give in return.


	87. Confessions

Brennan tried to keep as quiet as a mouse as she crossed through the house. It seemed as though it didn't take much to make the floorboards creak. The slightest bit of pressure sounded like a shot gun blast to her hearing. Having finished in the living room for the evening, she turned down the lights. Then she stood before the stairs. They loomed before her like a daunting obstacle course. There was no way she'd be able to get up them undetected. _Damn him and his sniper hearing._

Booth had been home a mere four hours. Pushing through paperwork and other documents required to release him had taken much longer than they should have. Upon getting home he'd separated himself from Brennan. Upstairs he'd disappeared. Brennan, despite worry, fought back a smile. He was heading straight to Alyssa. His daughter was a main priority.

She'd left the father and daughter alone to get reacquainted. Only once had she peeked in on them. And again, she'd tried not to smile. Booth was changing Alyssa's diaper. She couldn't make out his words but she could hear him talking to her in a soft, soothing voice. The infant was all grins. Her eyes were alight to see him.

Downstairs she'd heard Booth lay Alyssa down for the night, then head off into their own bedroom. Now, an hour later, she planned on joining him. She carefully picked her way upstairs, doing her best to make as little noise as possible. By the time she reached the bedroom she was so tense her muscles ached. But inside she was relieved to find Booth sleeping sound. In the darkness she shed her robe, hanging it up on the back of their bedroom door. Then she gingerly lowered herself into bed besides her husband.

Booth seemed to be oblivious. His exhaustion was greater than any other emotion. Now that he was home perhaps he could get some real rest.

She wiggled underneath the covers to get settled. Minutes passed while she laid completely awake. Her eyes fell onto his face. It was the perfect picture of peace. His rhythmic breathing was like music to her ears. There was no sound of distress. Just the breathing of a man soaring easy through his dreams.

Eventually he must have realized he was being watched, because she glanced away for a brief moment to find him looking at her when she turned back. She startled. "Booth."

"Sorry," he half grinned.

The anger that had been evident on his face just hours earlier was gone. "Are you still mad at me?" She asked timidly.

"No. Are you still mad at me?"

She scrunched her nose. "I never was mad at you. You're sick, Booth."

"No. I'm not." He sat up some, pushing his back up against his pillows. "And we all need to stop acting like I am. That's why I pushed so hard to get out of the hospital, Bones."

"Its not because Riley left?" She couldn't help her cool, accusatory tone.

"What? No. I mean, I'll admit I didn't fight as hard as I could have to get out because she was there." He saw something change in Brennan's expression. Pain. Betrayal? Oh no. "Bones… it's not… her boyfriend beats her."

Brennan inhaled in alarm. She'd had no idea. "Booth…"

"I was just trying to keep an eye on the situation. I'm sorry if I let you think otherwise. I'd never-"

"I know you wouldn't," she agreed with him. "But I admit I was jealous that she seemed to be doing more for your mental health that I have ever been able to do."

"Hey, that's not true. I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for you, Bones." He kissed her. "You've been the one pushing and fighting for me all along. I owe my life to you. And I can only hope someday you'll forgive me."

"Forgive you? For what?"

"Everything. This whole… everything. Putting you through this."

"It's been difficult." She acknowledged. "But we've gotten through it."

"I won't give up." He promised. His words struck a nerve. Tears appeared in her eyes, though she was smiling. Booth pulled her body close to his. He kissed her, soft and deep. She snuggled up against him. "I missed this," she admitted in a whisper against his lips.

"Me too." He narrowed his eyes coyly. "There's also something else I missed while I was in the hospital…"

"What?"

He flipped onto her back. She let out a squeal of surprise. He skirted his hand over her body while continuing to kiss her.

"Booth!" She laughed.

* * *

"Okay, Booth. I'm going to need everything you have on her."

The following day Booth sat himself down on the couch in Angela's office in the Jeffersonian. After picking Booth up from his first day of day therapy at the hospital Brennan had informed him she needed to stop by the lab for a moment. He decided to take advantage of the moment and put Angela to work hunting down Riley for him. Until he'd determined she was safe he wasn't willing to let it go.

"I don't have much. I don't even have her last name."

"Okay. Then," Angela picked up a sketch pad. "Describe her to me in as much detail as you can remember."

He inhaled deeply while struggling to recall her features. "Thin. Too thin. Short blond hair. Facial piercing."

Angela pursed her lips, contemplating for a moment. Then like magic her hand flew across the paper. "I need more." She said without looking up. "Can you be more specific?"

Booth continued to think. Words poured out of his mouth unfiltered. By the time they were finished Angela had created a striking replica. She grinned, noticing his look of amazement. He didn't need to say anything. His expression said it all.

She fed it into her computer. Patiently they waited in a comfortable silence while several programs scanned the internet for images of anyone who resembled the sketch. At last a website popped up. Riley so happened to have a Myspace page. Booth sat up straight. "Does it say where she lives? Even a city?"

"Let me do some playing." Angela again performed miracles. Within ten minutes, just by learning Riley's hometown and studying pictures she'd posted of herself around her apartment, she had a street for him. "Ange, I owe you." He accepted the piece of paper she'd jotted the address down on.

"Why is this so important to you? I mean, just because you were in the hospital together-"

"Her boyfriend hurts her." He said quietly. A serious intensity appeared in his eyes. Angela couldn't help herself but to fling her arms around him. To her delight he didn't stiffen. "I missed you," she told him.

From her office he went straight to Brennan. "You'll be here a while, right?"

She immediately noticed both his eager expression, and the way he was bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Yes. Why?"

"Can I borrow your car for an hour?" He explained his finding with Angela. "I just have to know she's okay, Bones. Then I'll drop the whole thing."

Knowing what she knew now, she wasn't so quick to object. Willingly she handed over her keys. "Call me and tell me how everything goes."

"Thanks." He kissed her long and sweet. Then he was gone. Brennan lowered herself down into her office chair. For both Booth and Riley, she hoped for the best.


	88. Staring Down The Beast

**"That's when she said "I don't hate you, boy**

**I just want to save you while there's still something left to save"**

**That's when I told her "I love you girl**

**But I don't have the answers for the questions that you still have"**

**- Rise Against**

* * *

It was raining when Booth parked Brennan's car along the curb. He let the car idle, staring up at the row of similar apartment dwellings lined up and down the street. Despite having a partial address he had no idea which one of these buildings Riley lived in. All Angela had been able to get him was the street. No more, no less. After weighing his options he turned off the engine. The only idea he had was to walk up and down the street. It seemed like a worthless plan. How could one possibly tell where someone lived just by walking by? Still, he went with it.

The rain soaked his hair, skin, and clothing in a matter of seconds. The sound of it pouring down on the street drowned out other small noises of the night. He stepped up onto the sidewalk. Back and forth he paced the block, staring into each window guardedly as he walked by. To his relief he found no one looking back at him. Among all his other problems all he needed was to be arrested for being a "peeping tom." Even if his story was the truth he couldn't see the police believing it to be anything other than fiction, particularly if he was forced to admit he met Riley in a mental rehabilitation facility.

"You keep pacing the block!" A voice called out to him on his third tour. He jumped into stillness. On a porch, safe under an over hang, an elderly woman was having a cigarette. Booth was unable to get a good look at her until she inhaled. The red orange ember at the end of her cigarette burned bright. "What is it you think you're doing?"

"I'm looking for someone!" He called back. "A friend. But I've forgotten her address." He lied. "And I need to find her!"

"At this time of night?"

By the world's standard it wasn't that late at all. But to this elderly woman, it was indeed. Booth wasn't put off. "Yeah. It's kind of an emergency."

The woman stubbed out her smoke. She descended the few stairs leading up to her porch. "I've been here forty years, sonny. There ain't nobody I don't know. What's your friend's name?"

He inhaled nervously, coughing on the remains of smoke that lingered in the air. "Riley. Her name's Riley."

Something changed in the woman's expression. Specifically, her eyes. They flashed with an emotion Booth couldn't read. "Riley, you say. She lives three apartments down." The woman pointed exactly to her apartment. "She's there with that God awful boyfriend of hers."

"You know." Booth accused softly. She stern frown softened. "Yes. I know he hurts her. Everyone on this block does. It's the unspoken white elephant, you could say. Which prompts me to ask… what kind of friend are you?"

It was a reasonable question. He turned away, feeling a sense of urgency. "One that's trying to save her."

It was difficult to discern over the sound of the rain, but he could have sworn he heard her say, "good," to his back. But he didn't stop. The time for talking was over. Now it was time for action. The victim needed to at long last become the savior.

He easily jogged the short distance. As he grew closer he could hear raised voices. Screaming. Fighting. Adrenaline rocketed through his muscles and pushed his feet into a faster pace. Up the stairs he leapt onto their porch. "Riley!" He shouted, banging a fist on the hard wood. Peeling white paint chips imbedded into his skin. "Riley let me in!"

A man's voice responded, though not to him. The din was muffled. But Booth clearly heard a woman cry out just after the sound of skin hitting skin. Though he should have expected it he was startled away from the door. It wasn't like he'd ever thought Riley was lying. However, hearing it in person was a harrowing experience. Something shifted in his being. He suddenly reacted without thinking. If he knew he was breaking the law it didn't register. Nothing mattered to him then except getting to her.

He pummeled the door easily. It splintered away from its hinges. Booth stormed his way inside. Right there before his eyes Riley lay on the floor, broken and bloody. She weakly held up an arm in defense against the man who stood over her with clenched fists. His attention switched from her to the stranger in his home. "Who the hell are you?"

Booth was frozen in place. One would have thought he would have reflected back on the abuse his father had inflicted on him. But his mind went to a different place. The man standing before him was no longer a man, but a woman.

_Booth was down on his knees. His hands were bound behind his back. His joints ached. She'd left him in a kneeling position for hours. The hard concrete was destroying his knee caps. His ankles hurt from being bent at such an odd angle. The muscles in his back felt ready to give out from struggling to keep himself up right. She'd positioned him behind an old fashioned burning hot radiator. If he fell he was bound to singe his flesh._

_The door overhead opened. Amanda took her time coming downstairs. "I have to give you respect for stamina. I would have thought you would have given up by now."_

_He breathed deeply in and out. She stopped just besides him. There was a moment of tense silence. Then she kicked him with the force of a horse. He tumbled sideways, but not before catching his shoulder on the hot metal. Blood ran down his back from the new wound. His vision faded from the pain._

_She used his state to her advantage. Immediately she began wailing on him with all her might. In the attack his hands broke free. He held up his arm, silently telling her to stop. All she did was laugh at him. Then she broke his wrist._

"What are you staring at?" The man was growling when Booth returned to reality. Only, he still was the persona of Amanda. And for the first time… Booth wasn't afraid. "It ends here."

"Excuse me?" The man rushed at him. All it took was one swing to the head and he was down and out for the count. Booth gaped. Had he really just been able to do that? Did he really just face and tackle his own demons?

Riley was trying to climb up onto her feet. She made a noise of pain, which brought Booth out of his reverie. He instantly was at her side, gently helping her up. "Get some stuff together," he ordered her. "You're not staying here."

"But-"

"No. I mean it. Go." He gave her a little push to get her going. She disappeared, returning just moments later with a small backpack over her shoulder. Booth walked her outside straight to his vehicle. Inside they both let out a collective breath. He dared to let himself look at her, really seeing her for the first time.

Blood coated her forehead, making the blond hair on her temple sticky with red liquid. Her eye was black. His eyes traveled over her body to notice her wrist bent awkwardly. Broken. Just like his had been. "We need to get you to the hospital."

"No!" She howled. "No, Booth! You can't! He'll go there looking for me! Please, don't!" She begged.

Booth sighed. He knew she was right. But the only other place he could think to take her was one he was unsure of. How would Brennan feel if he walked through the door with Riley by his side? Well, he was bound to find out. With no other options he reluctantly pulled the car into drive.

Riley was quiet, except for the occasional sound of her attempting to sniff back subdued tears. It broke his heart. He wished there had been something else he could have done for her, but knew there was nothing. He'd done what he could. The rest all relied on her now.

Brennan was sitting in a chair in the living room when she heard the car pull into the driveway. She was just at the front door when it swung open. Riley was the first to show up, surprising Brennan with her haggard appearance. Booth came in behind her and closed the door. The three all stood together uneasily. Riley couldn't raise her eyes from the floor. Booth shifted his weight back and forth from foot to foot. Brennan just stared, until the scientist in her took over. She stopped seeing Riley and began seeing her injuries. "You're hurt. Come with me."

Riley willingly followed her. Brennan sat her down upon their sofa. She left only to return with a first aid kit, as well as other supplies. With tender care she treated the young woman's injuries. "You should really go to the hospital," she told her while cleaning the blood from the wound on her temple. "This needs stitches."

"I can't. Not tonight." Her voice shook.

Brennan wouldn't pressure her. But perhaps she could talk her into going tomorrow. She splinted Riley's broken wrist the best she could. Then she gave her two pain pills. Last she offered her a pair of pajama bottoms she never wore and one of Booth's tee shirts. "They'll be comfortable and dry."

"Thank you. Thank you for being so nice to me."

Brennan just nodded. She wasn't willing to take Riley's graciousness so easily. She hadn't quite let go of her suspiciousness. She wasn't sure she trusted her, though it had nothing to do with Booth.

After giving her both a blanket and pillow, Brennan turned the lights out and headed upstairs. She'd noticed Booth had headed up once she'd taken Riley for treatment. Since that was out of the way she needed to care of her husband.

Booth had changed into sleep attire. He was laying in bed on top of the sheets. Brennan sat down on the very edge, tucking a leg underneath her. Their eyes connected. There was much emotion in his. "Booth-"

"I shouldn't have done it." He predicted her thoughts.

"Your hand is broken." She said instead. "Let me bandage it for you."

"If you think it'll do any good…" His voice trailed off. She was already readying her supplies. He should have known better. Taking care of him was more important to her than him. It was her way of controlling the situation. It was the least he could do for her.

"You punched him?" She asked, wrapping gauze around his fingers.

"Yeah. One punch was all it took." He smiled deviously. "But something weird happened. I didn't see Riley's boyfriend. I saw Amanda."

Brennan paused her movements. She tilted her head in confusion.

"I walked in on him beating her, Bones. The way he had her… the helplessness and fear… it just hit me. And there she was. And I attacked her." He let himself gaze into Brennan's eyes again. "I wasn't afraid. I think… I think its finally over."

She was ecstatic, but knew the truth in her heart. "It'll be better, Booth. _You'll _be better. But it will never completely be over. She's left metaphorical marks on you."

"It'll always be there. But I don't have to live in fear anymore."

She said nothing more while she finished bandaging his hand. Just like Riley she fed him a few pain killers. Then she turned off the light and snuggled up against him. He slid a hand under her pajama top and stroked the soft skin on her back. She could have purred like a kitten, she was so deliciously happy. "Booth?"

"Hmm?"

"I have something to tell you."

"Yeah? What is it?"

He was glad for the darkness so she couldn't see how rattled he was when she told him the news. "Alyssa is going to have a sibling."

"…What?"

"I'm pregnant. Again."

Booth said nothing. For the briefest of seconds she worried. Then she felt his body move. He pulled her up to him, kissing her until she saw fireworks. She couldn't stop herself from grinning back against his kiss.

Things may have been downhill for Riley downstairs, but upstairs they were looking up and beyond.


	89. Second Chances

That night Booth couldn't sleep. His stomach ached with pain. Brennan laid pressed up against his chest while he laid awake, staring at the blank darkness of the ceiling. Pregnant. Those words were definitely ones he hadn't been expecting. Certainly not with all that had been going on with his hospitalization and therapy. The idea of adding another new addition to the family was thrilling. He was excited that such love arrived out of a time that was consumed in so much fear and hate. Yet since uncovering the memory of Amanda's abortion that familiar sting of guilt had taken up residence in his chest. Maybe he needed to tell Brennan. Hell, maybe he just needed to tell _someone. _The burden was getting to be too much to bear on his own.

"_It's done."_

_Booth didn't bother trying to see Amanda. He could sense her standing over him. In his semiconscious state he could have cared less. There was no point left in trying. Death was seducing him with the promise of relief. _

"_I got rid of it. So we have nothing left to worry about. Well, I don't, anyway." She laughed. He felt her kneel down on the ground. "How does that make you feel?" She struck him. "Some hero, huh? Can't save a baby. Can't even save yourself." _

Booth gasped his eyes open. He hadn't even been aware he'd fallen asleep. It couldn't have been for long. Brennan was still close to him, with an arm wrapped possessively around his chest. Delicately he slipped himself out from underneath her. He laid her back down against her pillow, kissing her forehead. Then he withdrew from the room.

His first destination was the bathroom. He rummaged through the medicine cabinet until he located a bottle of liquid antacid. Disregarding the instructions he tilted his head back and drank. Within moments the pain in his stomach was dulled, but not completely alleviated. Against the edge of the sink he leaned, bowing his head and wrapping white knuckles around the porcelain base. He took a step back, appearing much as though he were pushing the sink away from him.

_Despite his cold exterior her words punctured his heart. He sucked in silent tears. Inwardly, he mourned. _

And yet there in the present he could hear someone crying his unshed tears. He straightened again. Riley. It had to be her. His moves were light as he stepped down the stairs. In the pale street light shining in through the window he could see her sitting up in her makeshift bed on the couch. Her head was in her hands. Booth hesitantly slunk to her side. "Ry? What's wrong? Are you in pain?"

She shook her head. "Booth… don't."

"Don't what?" He stood over her.

"Care about me. I shouldn't be here. I'm not worth this."

His stomach pain was momentarily forgotten. He switched on a light so he could look her dead on in the eyes. "You're worth it, all right? You can't go back. I won't let you."

Gently, she shook her head. "You've already done too much. I can't stay. Your wife doesn't even like me."

Booth sat himself down on the floor. "Bones is… Bones. It's not that she doesn't like you. She doesn't trust our friendship."

Riley didn't feign her shock. "She doesn't trust you?"

"No. She doesn't trust _you._" He regretted telling her those words, but they were the truth. "But she'll let you stay here for as long as you need. Consider this your second chance, all right? We'll get your life turned around."

"Second chance?" She sniffed. "What about you? Are you getting a second chance, with me staying here?"

"Yeah. Of course." Before he realized it, he whispered out loud to her, "she's pregnant."

Riley squealed, prompting Booth to silence her. "Another baby?" She whispered joyfully.

"My life is moving forward. I'm getting my second chance." He put his hand on top of hers. "And we'll get you to yours. Just trust me. I'll get you there."

"I trust you."

* * *

Sometime around dawn Brennan emerged from the deep sleep she'd been lost in. She was surprised to wake up on her side facing the wall, when she was sure she'd fallen asleep on top of Booth. She rolled onto her back, noticing immediately that he was still besides her. Only, he wasn't. The familiar intensely glazed look that had settled over his eyes stopped her heart. Both his chest and stomach muscles were tight with tension. It'd been months since he'd had a flashback. Was he falling backwards into old mental patterns? If so, why? "Booth."

Right away he returned from the place he'd been in. Tiredly he looked over to her. She could see the exhaustion written all over him. "You didn't sleep again," she realized disappointedly. She noticed there was a slight labor in his breathing. Something had triggered this attack; had upset him. "What is it?"

"I… I can't." There was a genuine fear in his voice. Not since he'd been in joint therapy with her had she heard such a tone. "Yes, you can. Booth, it's me." She reminded him. "You're safe here. You know that." She tried to invite him into her arms. He remained on the other side of the bed, putting as much space between them as possible. "You don't understand."

"I will, if you tell me."

"You won't look at me the same, Bones."

Brennan sat up. She turned on a light to assist with the morning rays that were just barely poking through the window. "Nothing could ever change the way I feel about you, Booth." Her words seemed to do little to impact his decision. The way his eyes darted back and forth in their slightly widened sockets told her that he was internally wrestling with a decision.

He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. "She was pregnant." With his chin tucked against his chest his sentence was uttered into their blankets.

What? Who was pregnant? Brennan didn't understand. "Riley?" She questioned, being the only one she could come up with. Had something happened over night?

"No. Not Riley." He lifted his head, but still wouldn't meet her eyes. He bore holes into their bedroom wall. "Amanda."

Brennan inhaled a lot more sharply than she intended. "Booth-"

"I remembered it while I was in therapy. She…" He became difficult to hear. "She got rid of it."

She reached for him, unsure of his reaction. He accepted her embrace, allowing her to tug him back across the bed into her arms. "It's not your fault." She told him immediately.

"There was nothing I could do. I wasn't… I couldn't even help myself."

"I know." She rubbed her hands over his muscles. Perhaps the contact would ease his mind. "You can't punish yourself for this. I know you are. You're right." She massaged his chest. "What could you do? You were her prisoner." Her hand dropped down to his abdomen. His response was instant. He reeled away from her, hissing through his teeth. She felt his body harden once again. Her disappointment was obvious. Hadn't they gotten past this? "Booth," she took a breath to say more before she stopped herself. For the first time she noticed the sweat glistening on his neck. The rapid motion of his breathing didn't seem to be in emotional turn moil, but in real, physical pain. "You're not sleeping," she said more to herself than him. "You're not eating. You're in pain." Since he was distracted she used a feather light touch to probe his stomach again. He grunted, seizing her hand and pushing it away. "You're in a lot of pain."

"I'm fine." His sharp tone suggested he was anything but. Brennan rose from the bed. She retrieved her cell phone. "You're going to the doctor."

He was too weak to argue with her.

* * *

"Well, Booth. I have good news and bad news."

Booth was sitting on an exam table, near doubled over in pain. His dull eyes spoke the dismal words his mouth wouldn't. He looked from the doctor to Brennan, and then back again. His body was steeled. He was ready for the worst.

"You don't have a tumor."

Booth sat up in surprise. Brennan herself, was astounded as well. "It's not? Are you positive?"

Dr. Art smiled widely. "I'm positive. The symptoms Booth has been suffering from are those of an ulcer. Nothing more than that. I have some medicine I'm sending you home with, and I'm going to prescribe some antacids." He bustled out to return with written prescriptions.

"I'm not sick," Booth whispered out loud, mostly to himself. Despite the pain he still felt there was an unspoken relief in him. Brennan felt it as well. There was no need to say how elated they were not to have to travel down that road one again.

They said little else to one another while leaving the doctor's office and driving home. Brennan parked the car in the driveway and shut off the engine. Neither of them made any moves to get out. Then suddenly, Booth leaned across the space between them. He kissed her, soft and gentle.

It was a surprise, but a welcome one. "Everything's going to be all right."

He smiled giddily, like a child. "I know."

Hand and hand they went inside. To their dismay they jointly noticed there was an absence in the living room. Riley was gone.


	90. Finding The Hero

"Well, Agent Booth, it's a pleasure to see you back here. It's been too long since you've been in this office."

Booth nodded a polite thank you to Hacker. He was struggling not to show his nervousness. His hands stayed loosely at his sides. Evenly he breathed in and out, and was consciously aware of it. Absolutely he could show no sign of weakness. Everything he was hoping for was riding on this meeting he had arranged with the bureau. Specifically, Hacker.

It'd been a month since Riley had vanished from the apartment. For the first few days Booth had done all he could to hunt her down. Unfortunately his efforts hadn't been fruitful. All in all there wasn't too much he could do. He didn't know her neighborhood; her friends. He didn't know her favorite places to hide out. The following days he'd mourned the loss of his friend. Riley had been one of the few who seemed to really understand what he had been suffering through. He figured she must had of returned to her boyfriend. Knowing she cared so little about herself upset him. Yet with there being nothing he could do, he turned that emotion inward and settled on bettering himself. He knew he never wanted to return to the past, as she seemingly had done.

He'd spent his time building back his physique. Since the ulcer was under control he was able to eat again. In the morning he'd taken up his running routine. Though he'd been working hard he was still a long way away from being the fit man he'd been. But there had been a definite improvement, which had carried over into his mental health. For the first time in years he was able to feel happiness without the shadow of guilt looming overhead.

He'd applied to work at the FBI once again. These days he'd given up on his hope to be an agent. After all he'd been through he had doubt that he'd be allowed into the field. But if they would hire him for any sort of job it would at least be a foot back in the door. Before the meeting he'd gone to seek out his old office. Another agent now called that room his own. It saddened Booth, but it wasn't a shock. Far from it.

Hacker flipped through the folder full of papers Booth had brought with him. Among those were recommendations from both Sweets and Wylan stating him fit for duty. His medical doctor had submitted a clean bill of health, except of course for his ulcer. Now the decision laid up to Hacker. His stomach twisted with anticipation.

Quietly the man read. He glanced up with a raised eyebrow. "How are you feeling these days?"

"Much better, sir." Booth nodded confidently.

"You're a far better man than I am. If everything that happened to you ever happened to me, work wouldn't be a priority."

Easily Booth shrugged. "I need to work." He stated simply. "I've missed it. I understand I can't be an agent. But I need to be here." _I need to assist in catching criminals. I need to help keep people safe. _His thoughts shifted to Riley. He tried to shoot them down. Now wasn't the time to be thinking of her.

Fifteen tense minutes passed before Hacker finished reading. "I don't know what to tell you," he admitted, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "All these reports claim you're fit to work."

"Claim? You don't believe what the doctors have to say about me?"

"No. It's not that. It's just that given your recent history-" he cut himself off with a sigh. "You were one of the best agents we ever had."

"I can be again." He prodded lightly. Was this his chance?

More moments passed. Finally, seeming to no one, Hacker nodded. "I can put you on desk duty for now. After a few months we'll reevaluate your position and I can make a firmer decision then."

Desk duty would have been an insult to the old Booth. But this one was just grateful for the opportunity. He sprang up to his feet and pumped Hacker's hand vigorously. "I won't let you down."

"Don't make those kinds of promises. You make me look even worse. Get out of here." He scoffed, playfully dismissing him.

He drove straight to the Jeffersonian where the group of Squints were anxiously awaiting his return. He was barely in the door before throwing his arms up into the air triumphantly.

"You're reinstated?" Angela shrieked.

"Starting Monday. It's just desk duty but-"

"There's no "just" about it!" She flung herself at him and hugged him.

"It'll be good to see you back around here." Cam agreed as she drew close to join them.

"I'm not an agent. I wouldn't count on me being one."

"I'm not so sure about that." Cam had a Cheshire cat smile. He pondered if she knew something he didn't.

After a congratulations from Hodgins Brennan appeared. She said nothing, just embraced her husband. "I knew you could do it." She whispered into his ear.

"Not without you." He kissed her.

* * *

That night they lay snuggled up in bed together. On the floor their clothes lay in a heap where they shed them the instant they'd gotten through the door. Forgoing dinner, their eyes had only been on one another. After making love they'd drifted off cuddled up tight. Outside a soft rain was playing them a lullaby.

The shrill ring of Booth's cell phone sounding out like an alarm in the darkness startled them both. Without removing himself from her arms Booth reached for his phone and answered it. "Booth." He muttered tiredly.

The voice on the other end didn't speak. But he could hear someone crying. Quiet breaths were gasped out over the line. Booth's eyes opened up wide. "Hello?" He said again. He had an ill feeling he knew who was attempting to reach him.

"Hi." A strained voice spoke. Riley.

"Riley? What's wrong? Where are you?"

Brennan's eyes popped open as well. The worry in her husband's voice wasn't something she was willing to overlook. She released him, sitting up and watching his facial expressions.

"I'm just calling to say goodbye."

He inhaled sharply. "Where are you? What happened?"

"I can't do this anymore. You were a good friend to me. I didn't want to bail without letting you know, first."

"I'm coming to get you." He leapt out of bed. "Just tell me where you are."

"It doesn't matter now."

"It does! Ry, please!"

She shuddered out a sigh. "I'm by the train tracks at the Union Station. I'll be dead before you get here."

"Just stay there!" He pleaded. "Ry?" The line had gone dead. He felt frantic. Hurrying in dressing, he had no idea what he was covering himself with. "I gotta find her, Bones. She's going to hurt herself."

"I know. Go stop her, Booth." Pride resounded in her voice. Her knight in shining armor, or Riley's as it seemed at the moment, was back. For the first time she didn't even feel jealous. She was just as concerned about the young woman who seemed bent on self destruction.

Booth broke speed limits and several different traffic laws in his rush to the train station. The car was hardly in park before he tumbled out of it screaming Riley's name. Inside the station house was completely empty. Outside just by the rails did he at last find Riley. Her feet were dangling over the edge of the platform. But before he could notice that he fearfully noticed the gun clenched in her palm. "Riley?" He questioned. Slowly he walked over to her.

She twisted around to look at him. Her eyes were unfeeling. She'd been beaten up nearly beyond recognition. Most of her face was covered in bruises. A cut split her bottom lip in half. There were more wounds on her hands, and Booth felt cold sickness thinking about the ones her clothes were likely hiding.

"Riley." He repeated her name in a sympathetic tone.

"You shouldn't have come here."

"I told you I'd keep you safe. I'm not turning back on that now. You need help."

"I don't want help."

"We both know you wouldn't have called me if that were the case."

She left that comment untouched, knowing there was truth in it. "I just want this all to be over."

He crept closer. "It can be, and not in the way you're thinking of. Come on, Ry. If I can turn my life around then you can, too."

She refused to look at him. "You wanted to change. I don't. I just want to give up." She sobbed, her shoulders shaking. "It's never going to end."

Cautiously he sat down next to her. "Yeah, it will. Do you trust me?"

"It's not about trust."

"But do you?"

She shook her head in agreement. Her eyes scrunched closed. Fat tears squeezed out. They blended in with the rhythm of the rain, which fell down harder now upon them.

"Then trust me now. Let me get you out of here. Let me save you, okay?" He half smiled at her. "I hear I'm pretty good at it."

She giggled a little. He smiled wider. "I love you, Riley. You're like a little sister to me. I'm not about to let anything happen to you. I need you to trust me. We can fix this, all right? We can make things better. But you gotta take that first step with me." He extended his hand.

She eyed it coldly. Both of their gazes fell down to the gun still gripped in her fist. Smoothly he slid his hand into hers. She did nothing to stop him as he maneuvered the weapon away from her. Instead she dropped her head into her hands. Harder, she cried. He wrapped an arm around her thin shoulders. "Thank you. Now lets get out of this rain, okay?"

Riley let herself be led back to his car. He tucked her in the passenger seat before climbing into the driver's seat. Starting up the vehicle, he blasted the heat to warm them both up. Then he snuck a glance at her. There in her defeated pose he glimpsed something familiar. She was the person he once was.

And the person he no longer was.


	91. Residual Damage

The next month passed by in the blink of an eye. That night after rescuing Riley Booth took her straight to the hospital. She'd fought him tooth and nail. "No, Booth! You know what its like there!"

"Of course I do. But Ry, you just held a gun on yourself." Her protesting meant nothing to him. The hospital is where he was headed and there was nothing she could do or say that would deter him. She'd more than proven she was a danger to herself. The only way for him to possibly protect her was to put her life in someone else's hands.

"I never should have called you." She remarked darkly. She wouldn't look at him. Without making any noise she cried.

At the hospital he walked her straight into the emergency room. Nurses seized on her immediately to begin treatment on her wounds. By her side Booth stayed until he was satisfied she was squared away. She still wouldn't pay a single scrap of attention to him. "Stay safe," he told her upon parting. "Just do what they tell you to do and get better." He squeezed her hand.

The following week Booth returned to work. His new station was in a cubicle among dozens of other agents. He hated it from the get go. There was too much bustle around him for him to focus on his work. The paperwork was tedious. His attentive mind was bored silly. But he did all he could to shine. If he wanted to prove himself then he knew he would have to jump through any hoops the bureau required. Whether it was realistic or not he still fancied on being an agent.

"You'll never pass the physical." Brennan warned him one morning just after breakfast. Booth had just gotten back from a two mile run. "What?" He exclaimed.

"Booth, your body has been through substantial abuse. You're fortunate you're ambulatory at all."

He recoiled. "But I-"

"And even if you do, you might not pass the psychological test." She added in a careful voice.

Now he was hurt, in addition to angry. "Thanks for that, Bones."

"Booth, I don't think I need to remind you what Amanda did to you. How badly she ruined you. It's taken years for you to get over her abuse. All I'm saying is that between the physical and mental damage-"

Alyssa began crying from her crib upstairs. Booth turned his back on his wife. "My daughter needs me." He excused himself in a cool tone.

A rift was put up between them. Yet the worst blow came when Booth came to learn that another agent had been assigned to work cases with the Jeffersonian. "Why now?" Booth had demanded. "After all this time. Why now?"

"I don't know." Brennan had seemed just as enraged. "But it won't last long. He's not you."

It did little to cheer up his dampened spirits. He turned that emotion into fuel. The anger gave him the fire to push himself harder. Instead of running two miles, he ran four. Four quickly turned into six. Satisfaction only came after he was running ten miles at a personal best time. He was just as fast as he'd once been.

He delayed coming home after work to stay in the gym and lift weights. Again he forced himself to work through exhaustion. He refused to give up. Before he knew it his body was back in shape. If he didn't know it himself it was blatantly obvious in the way Brennan's eyes lingered on him. "What?"

She'd grinned coyly, kissing him. He'd allowed it, but backed off when she'd tried for more. In frustration she exhaled. "You're still angry with me."

He turned his back.

"Booth, I just don't want you getting your hopes up. I don't want you crushed if the bureau turns you down."

"You don't think I can do it."

Her silence was enough of an answer for him. He left her standing in the kitchen. Upstairs he'd gone to work in Alyssa's nursery. The space now needed to be divided for two babies. He'd started building a second crib to be set next to Alyssa's. She sat up in her own crib and watched him with lit eyes. He grinned up at her, temporarily forgetting his anger. She cooed back. "You're a flirt." He chuckled. "You better cut that out when you're older."

She giggled, delighted to hear her father's voice. He rose from the floor and lifted her up into his arms. "I gotta get back to work as an agent." Together they sat down in a rocking chair. "I gotta make you proud of me, right?" He kissed her forehead.

_You'll never be able to do it. You're wasting your time. _Booth exhaled. It didn't matter how much progress he made, residual damage would always remain. In that way Brennan was absolutely right. But he refused to let it end his dreams. There was always something worth striving for. And he'd get there. If nothing else but to prove it to himself.

The frigid air between them was bothering Brennan more than she let on. One afternoon she found herself confiding her thoughts to Angela. "He's angry with me because he thinks I don't support his plan to reinstate himself as an agent."

"Well, do you?"

"No." She exhaled. "I don't. I don't think he'll make it. I mean, he's gotten back into physical health. His body has filled out."

"Yeah, it has." Angela agreed with a wicked gleam in her eyes.

"And emotionally he's much stronger than he was since he returned from the abduction. I just don't want to see him disappointed. He's been through so much. I don't want to see him in any more pain, especially if its something I can prevent."

"Have you tried explaining this to him?"

"Yes. Just… maybe not in those words." Brennan stared down into her cup of water. "He's not the same, Ange. I mean, he is. But his mind isn't the same. It never will be. She left him with lasting brain damage. He still has nightmares."

"I imagine he always will."

"If I knew for certain that he'd be reinstated, I would let him. I wouldn't argue. But I don't know. And I don't want him hurting."

Judging by the amount of determination she'd seen Booth display recently, Angela didn't think there was anything Brennan could do or say to steer him away from the idea. "Maybe you need to just give him this one and ride it out."

Meanwhile, Booth was sitting in his cubicle staring lifelessly at his phone. For what felt like the millionth time he'd tried calling the hospital to either speak with Riley, or get an update on her condition. Since he wasn't family he wasn't entitled to rally for either. Now he'd just informed that she'd been discharged. Since he still hadn't heard from her he had to figure she hadn't forgiven him. "Well, at least she's safe." He muttered out loud.

"Who's safe?"

Booth craned his head to see Hacker standing over him. "No one. Just a friend. What can I do for you, sir?"

"A bunch of us are going out tonight to a bar. We'd like it if you came with."

Booth's eyes grew large with excitement. Here he was being offered a chance to take back up with his fellow agents. "Yeah. Let me just call home and clear it with Bones." He picked up his phone again to dial.

"Better agent. Better man. Better husband." Hacker shook his head in mock disgust.

Brennan was rather shocked when Booth relayed his plans, but didn't have much to say. He was in the clear. And so the rest of the afternoon into late evening passed with shots of alcohol, bottles of beer, and traded stories of life. Booth remained quiet, perfectly content with listening to what his former colleagues had to say. He respectfully passed on any stories regarding his own life when asked. The only tale he shared was the birth of Alyssa.

By the end of the night he was quite intoxicated. He stood on the curb waiting to flag down a cab. Had he been in his right mind he would have thought enough to call Brennan for a ride home. In retrospect it was likely fate that he didn't. Once a cab stopped for him he crawled inside. He managed to jumble out his address for the driver. Then he laid back and shut his eyes.

"_It's never going to end."_

"_Yes, it will. Come on, Riley. You're stronger than this."_

"_No, I'm not. Just give up on me already, Booth. It's over."_

Booth's eyes popped back open. Riley. He needed to see her. "Hey, uh, can we actually go here instead?" He gave the driver what he thought was the correct address. Then he collapsed back against his seat for a second time.

Some time passed before Booth was woken. The car had come to a stop. Booth fished out his wallet and accidentally overpaid the driver. He stumbled from the car, mumbling words of appreciation. The headlights lit his way to the stairs leading up to Riley's place. Though it was only a few steps they stretched out before him for miles. The cab driving away and taking the only light with him didn't help Booth's plight. His world rocked back and forth as he teetered his way up.

Inside he could people arguing, yet it didn't register until he heard a high pitched scream. "HELP ME!" He could hear Riley plead. Her voice sobered him. He hurried up the rest of the stairs to the best of his ability. Just as he was shouldering his way in through the door someone was coming out. The two collided. Booth crashed to the floor as they fled into the night. "What the hell…" He murmured, putting himself back on his feet. "Riley?"

Ultimately he found her in the kitchen. She was laying on the floor with blood oozing from her chest. Not far from where she laid a bloody knife had been left haphazardly on the floor. Booth's heart froze. She'd been stabbed. "Riley!" He fell down onto his knees and pulled her into his lap. One hand pressed down over her wound while he dialed for paramedics.

Shock was already forcing Riley from reality. The blood was emitting from her body at a faster rate than Booth could keep up with. He finished with his phone call and let the phone fall onto the floor so he could set her down on the ground. With both hands firmly over her heart he continued to apply pressure. "Come on. Just hold on."

Riley's breathing was agonal. Her eyes closed. By the second she was turning whiter. Booth knew he was losing her but couldn't quite let himself believe it. "Riley, no! Look at me, damn it!"

She weakly lifted her hand and pressed against his own chest. "Second… chances…" She whispered.

"Yeah. You'll get another one. Don't do this." He begged. "Stay with me. Paramedics, they'll be here soon!"

Her hand fell back down besides her. Booth continued his string of encouragement knowing full well she couldn't hear him. Just as medical help came bounding through the door he felt her heart stop. He let go of his firm touch and bowed his head. "You're too late." He told those around him who'd begun setting up equipment. "She's gone."


	92. Follow You Into The Dark

"If there's no one beside you when your soul embarks

Then I'll follow you into the dark"

- Death Cab For Cutie

* * *

Brennan couldn't quite believe what she was walking into as two automatic doors slid away from one another to grant her access. She stepped over the threshold into the emergency room with a sense of urgency. An hour ago she'd been woken by a midnight phone call. Riley was dead. Booth had been taken by paramedics to the hospital in emotional shock. He'd frozen up at the scene and no one had been able to get a word out of him. All the police knew was that Riley had been stabbed and her attacker had gotten away.

She stepped up to the registration desk. "I'm looking for Seeley Booth. I'm his wife."

The nurse directed her. Brennan nodded a curt "thank you" and went about on her way. She caught sight of him sitting in a room long before he saw her. He was sitting upright in bed, with his feet dangling over the edge. Someone had given him a blanket which he'd wrapped around his shoulders. A police officer was speaking to him. But true to the voice on the phone he wasn't responding. Straight ahead at the wall he just kept staring.

She was about to enter when another officer stopped her. "I'm Dr. Brennan. I'm his wife." She explained with much irritation. "What happened to him?"

"We don't know for sure. What we do know is that he came across the young woman being attacked tonight. He tried to administer first aid while waiting for help but unfortunately she died just as they arrived. Since then he really hasn't talked too much to anyone."

"It's a defense mechanism." _A common one for him. _

"Maybe, or it also could be that he's drunk as a skunk."

Brennan was taken aback. "Excuse me?"

"When they tested him at the scene he was well above the legal limit. He's not so drunk now, but-"

"You don't think he did this?" She accused in disbelief.

"No. But we need to know what he saw."

"Then let me talk to him." She easily slunk by the investigator. She didn't stop moving or dodging people until she was in his room standing right before him. Affectionately she laid a hand on his shoulder. He looked at with glassy, dilated eyes. That gaze then fell down onto his hands. Since he'd been brought in he hadn't been permitted to clean himself. Blood tainted both his flesh and his clothes. Brennan felt sick to her stomach. This was too real; too familiar. "Have you gathered any evidence you need from him?" She demanded to know.

"Yes, we-"

"Then perhaps you should allow him to wash up before questioning him." To Booth she now spoke. "Come on." She helped him up onto his feet. In the nearby bathroom she gave him space but remained protectively close while he scrubbed the blood off of him. Then she led him back.

From then on Booth was able to answer a few questions in broken phrases. His eyes were drooping. He'd had enough, and it was time for Brennan to put an end to it. "Let him go home and get some rest." She ordered. It amused her, how she was able to call the shots with little resistance. "Your questions will still be waiting tomorrow morning."

Booth let her lead him around. She got him home, undressed him, and laid him down straight into bed. His eyes closed within a heartbeat. Less than five minutes passed before he was snoring quietly. Brennan sat down in bed next to him. Since he'd chosen to lay on his stomach she massaged his back. She needed to do something to fight against the helplessness she felt. He'd just lost the one friend he'd had in this world whom he believed understood what he'd been through. And maybe Riley did, more so than Brennan did, anyway. There would be a fallout from her death, and Brennan dreaded it. _He's been himself again. What if this undoes all the good?_

* * *

Brennan woke the following morning to an empty bed. She squeezed her eyes back closed in dread. _He's gone. I'm going to lose him all over again. _Alyssa wailed out into the silence before she could stir up another thought. Depressed, she pulled herself out of bed. It was then she noticed a note on top of their dresser. _Gone to the range. Be back soon. -B _Brennan did a double take. He'd gone shooting?

She tended to Alyssa all while feeling a twinge of discontent. Certainly she'd expected Booth to be bed ridden nursing both a hangover and a broken heart. The firing range was the last place she would have looked for him in general. Maybe for the old Booth, but not the new one. Both curiosity and anxiety made a decision for her. She arranged for a nanny for Alyssa, then headed to the range herself.

The expansive room was empty except for Booth and a few other agents. He was set up right in the first stall. A few clips of ammunition sat on a ledge in front of him. Just as she arrived he was switching them out. She stayed back to watch him in all his glory. Booth was a sniper; an expert marksman. Obviously it'd been quite some time since he'd fired a gun competitively. She found herself reserving a breath in her lungs. They both needed this to go well for him.

She shouldn't have worried. Booth finished preparations. He lifted his weapon and fired off round after round within seconds of each other. The sound of it blasted off the walls and nearly deafened her. When he was finished he palmed a button that brought the paper target he'd been aiming at back to him. Amazed she was to see his aim had been dead on. Every single round had struck through its mark appropriately. The brain damage had altered certain things in him. But his marksmanship was still beyond admirable. "Wow-how." She laughed in astonishment.

He whirled around. "Hi," he straightened in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to find you. I got your note."

His eyes swept over her. "Where's Alyssa?"

"With the nanny."

He relaxed. "Oh." From his gun he ejected the empty clip.

"Are you hungry? Did you eat breakfast?"

"No." He rubbed at his stomach, indicating to her that he still felt nauseous.

She wanted to get him out of the range. The two needed to have a talk. "Can I buy you a coffee, then?"

There was sadness in his smile. "You asking me on a breakfast date?"

"Sure."

"Okay. Let me clean up."

A half an hour later the two were seated at the Royal Diner. Booth was silent, sipping at the coffee Brennan had indeed bought him. His mind was actively at work. Brennan was able to tell by the way his eyes darted back and forth while he watched the traffic outside the window in the street. "How are you feeling?"

"She's dead, Bones." Three words summed up everything.

"I know."

He sighed and shook his head. "I tried. I did what I could."

"I know you did."

"It wasn't enough. She went back to him every time."

"She wasn't strong like you, Booth." She laid her hand over his arm. "I think you were the only good she had in her life. You were a friend to her. I'm sorry she died but at least you were there for her. She didn't have to die alone and afraid."

_Second chances. _His jaw locked. "I'm going to get that son of a bitch."

"Her boyfriend? He did this?" Brennan already knew. For some reason she just wanted to hear him confirm it.

He nodded. "He was her Amanda. After he stabbed her he knocked me over trying to get away. I've already been by the police station this morning. I told them everything I remembered. They've got a task force assembled to hunt him down but it's not enough. I um," he cleared his throat, seeming nervous. "I also went to the bureau this morning. I'm testing to be reinstated next week."

"Okay," was all she could think of to say. Any words to the contrary would have been useless, anyway. Booth was determined, even if it was on his own. It'd been a long time since she'd seen such strength in him. It was that strength that would lead her after him blindingly. She still worried he was setting himself up for great disappointment.

"You'll support me?" He didn't mask his surprise.

"I'll follow you."


	93. A New Threat

Booth seemed to make himself scarce over the next few days. Brennan was lucky if she saw him at all. Then again, she too was suddenly busy with a case she'd been thrown into. Her heart wasn't in it. The agent they'd paired her up with was nothing like Booth. He was clueless and arrogant, and not worth a shred of her time, as far as she was concerned. She tried to focus on the facts of the case but found herself feeling remiss. If she was being honest then she would have to admit that if Booth wasn't reinstated her interest in continuing to work in law enforcement would be gone. Without Booth's expertise her interest waned. Likely she'd quit, and go back to working as strictly an anthropologist. Ancient remains would always be waiting for her. Then again, should she do so it wasn't only her life she would have been changing. Whatever decision she made affected her colleagues.

As her stomach grew so did her heavy thoughts. Despite only seeing him in passing, Booth, being as intuitive as he was, began to pick up on it. She was sitting up in a chair in the kitchen running through her case report when he stumbled in from the gym. "Hey," he said, surprised to find her home. Her case had left her running ragged. She smiled into the brief kiss her left on her lips. "What are you doing home?"

"Finished up." She held up her paperwork. "I wanted to get this done so I could rest easily."

"Understandable." He pulled a bottle of water from the fridge and twisted off the cap. Quietly he critiqued her, taking every inch of her in. His tense stare brought her eyes up for a second time. "What?"

"What's wrong? I know when something's upsetting you, Bones."

Guilty. "I'm thinking of quitting my work with the bureau."

"What?" She might as well have slapped him. "Why?"

"If you don't get reinstated-"

He stiffened.

"Than my interest has declined. This new agent… he's incompetent."

"Complain to Hacker."

"Without you Booth, I just don't want to meddle in death and murder anymore. I don't have the motivation. I don't have the strength or energy. When our baby is born I will be requiring time off again anyway."

"But that's months from now." He was still trying to absorb the shock. "Wait. You said you're just thinking about it, right? You haven't made any decisions?"

"It's not just me I have to decide for."

With that he could buy a small sliver of time. "Let me get retested then. Don't make any decisions before next week."

"Booth-"

"Seriously, Bones." He bounced down into a chair besides her. "Give me a chance."

"You don't know-"

"Let me prove it to you. I can do this." He was adamant. "And I will. And we'll be back together again. Everything changes. You taught me that." Lovingly he placed his hand over hers. "So lets change this. Lets turn it around."

His voice was so sure that she could only believe him. Besides, what was one more week? "All right."

* * *

As if to prove it to himself Booth ran himself with a copious amount of power the following night. His shoes slapped the rubber rotating mat of the treadmill so hard that the entire machine shook. Nothing else in the environment of the FBI gym registered with him. His mid was actively at work, transitioning from one thought into another. He sorted through everything he'd been through in the past few years. He centered on the outstanding sadness and anger for strength. By the time he finished his work out he hardly had the stamina to put one foot in front of the other to leave the gym for the locker room. Yet he felt pride in this. These workouts sealed his promise to Brennan; his own expectations that he had every intention of living up to.

After downing a sports drink and easing the ache in his muscles through a lengthy hot shower, he dressed before starting out into the parking lot. At that late night hour there were few cars left in the parking garage. Overhead numerous lights had burned out, leaving the large area in semi darkness. On the ground black skid marks gave indication of some sort of altercation. Booth frowned, immediately worrying Brennan had been involved. _She finished her case. She's home. She's fine._

But he wasn't. His sixth sense kicked in as the hair of the back of his neck stood on end. Someone was stalking him. Their form was concealed in the shadows, but there was still the outline of a figure. Booth came to a stop. He scanned the garage. "I'm too tired to play games. Whoever you are, just come out."

There was no warning before the attack. Something heavy crashed into his side with tremendous vigor. Booth was down and gasping before he'd understood what had happened. Just as he was ready to move another hit landed in between his shoulder blades. _No. This is not happening again. _He rolled over onto his back. Riley's boyfriend was waiting for his next move. The end of a metal baseball bat was only inches from Booth's head. "If I were you, I'd stay down."

Amanda. _"If you were smart, you wouldn't move." _No. He wasn't allowing himself to be in this position again. "You've been following me?" He predicted.

"After you ratted me out to the police, yeah. Nice family you have, by the way."

Booth felt a pure shot of adrenaline. No one would ever come after his family so long as he was alive. Bravely he wrestled the end of the bat away from the man. Riley's boyfriend, or Ben being his name as Booth had come to learn, took a few steps back in surprise as his victim climbed back up onto unsteady feet. "Don't you ever bring up my family again. Your problem is with me."

"You're damn right it is." Despite the turn of control Ben wasn't intimidated. He charged at Booth for a second time. Booth swung, striking the man firmly in the chest. The blow paralyzed him, but only for a moment. He purposefully tilted himself forward off his feet. In the process he knocked the weapon away from Booth. He was clamoring for it when Ben pinned him down against the pavement. He squeezed Booth's throat, choking him while providing a continuous brutal assault to his head.

The bat was just out of reach. Booth knew it was his only hope for survival. His fingers extended to their limit. The tips brushed across the cool metal of the rounded end. Just a bit further…

Ben landed a punch to his jaw that twisted his head around. Booth didn't think, he just reacted. The hand he'd been outstretching for the bat hardened into a fist. With all his rage he pummeled his attacker straight between the eyes. Unprepared for the abrupt punch, Ben recoiled.

"Hey!" Someone's voice echoed off the concrete walls. "I'm calling for back up!"

Then just as swiftly as he'd arrived Ben was gone. Booth shut his eyes in relief. The feeling was short lived when he sensed someone kneeling over him. The man was someone he slightly recognized; someone who worked in the bureau but wasn't an agent. "Geez, man. What happened? I'll go get some agents so you can report this and get some paramedics-"

If the cavalry was dispatched then word would travel like lightning. The assault would likely eliminate his chance to recertify. Brennan would receive details. She'd lose her confidence in him. Her prestigious work with the bureau would be over. "No need. I'm all right."

"Are you sure? Because really-"

Metallic blood tainted his taste buds. He spit out the red liquid. "This was a personal beef. No one needs to know. I'll be fine."

"If you're positive…"

Booth gave his gratitude. He limped to his car and got inside. His first thought was to lock the doors. Upon doing so he leaned back in his seat with scrunched eyes. "Shit," he hissed out loud through clenched teeth. The fire in his rib cage was damn near unbearable. He was sure Ben had managed to break a rib or two. His vision blurred with the continuous aching pounding like a drum through his skull. "How the hell am I going to hide this?" He pondered.

Bones. Alyssa. What if the psycho had ventured to his home to finish his retaliation? Booth started the car so fast he nearly inflicted damage to the engine. His tires squealed in protest as he took off. "This isn't over."

* * *

At home all appeared normal. Booth in the best way he could in his condition, rushed forth inside. Brennan was sitting on the couch cradling Alyssa in her arms. There was no threat; no imminent danger. He swung back around to peer out the window.

"Booth?"

Briefly he glanced back behind him.

"Booth!" Alyssa was set down in her playpen. Brennan cautiously forced Booth's body towards hers. "What happened?"

"I fell off the treadmill. It looks a lot worse than it really is."

She guided him to the couch and sat him down. It took self control to keep himself from wincing in the compacted position. Brennan knelt to study his injuries. "Did you lose your balance?"

"Yeah." He smiled sheepishly. "I set the pace too fast and I was thinking about stuff. Pretty stupid, huh?"

_Booth doesn't lose his balance. Or fall. _Then again, there was once again the topic of brain damage. She'd never looked too closely into it, but it was more than a slim chance the bones in his inner ears were damaged. _But this sort of problem would have exhibited itself long before now. He's never had any problems. Not since his tumors were removed. _She noticed again his gaze had been attracted to the window. "Why-"

"Look Bones, it's no big deal." He stood again and stepped away from her. "Nothing a beer and a few painkillers won't kick out. I'll be fine."

"You shouldn't be drinking with prescription medication." Her parted information fell onto deaf ears. She studied Booth as he walked away. For a third time he peered out the window, stopping in the doorway to do so. Then he took to the stairs. She could hear his exaggerated breaths as he moved up each one.

Brennan had been trained in anatomy. Kinesiology. His story did not match up to any of his injuries. Adding in the seemingly new paranoia, and she knew. Something had happened, and he was withholding the truth from her.

Booth meanwhile checked his reflection in the bathroom mirror with the door closed behind him. His cheek and jaw were both wounded. A small bruise was starting near his eye. He lifted his shirt to find a swirl of purple and blue dancing up his side like a tattoo. With a sigh he dropped the hem. He popped a few Vicodin in his mouth before heading to bed.

In the darkness he lay awake, consumed by his trepidation. _I will get through this. I will keep my family safe. I'll get reinstated, and then I'll have access to resources I don't have now. And then… I'll get this guy, if it's the last thing I do._


	94. Brennan Takes Control

The Vicodin worked its usual magic. Once he found a comfortable position Booth managed to sleep straight through his pain. Brennan was the one who laid awake awash in worry. What was happening to Booth? She couldn't stand it when he held secrets from her. Something had taken place, and it wasn't a fall off a treadmill. His pained breathing confirmed her suspicions. Medications could hide the pain, but the physical evidence would always be apparent. She put this theory into motion. In a very gentle and sensitive manner she probed his skin over his clothes. She started with his lower body, applying slight pressure against his abdomen. Without a reaction she continued higher. All she was able to feel were the well defined muscles of his recently developed body. That is, until she reached his rib cage.

He winced a little when she poked left side of him. But when she felt her way up the right he inhaled sharply. Through his skin she could gather enough to know that he had at least one broken rib. When she flittered her fingers to the next one he sprang to life. In what felt like a vice grip he seized her arm. "What the hell are you doing?" He breathed.

"Booth, you're very hurt."

"I know. I told you-"

"I know you didn't fall of a treadmill." She flipped the switch on the bedside lamp. In the light she could see he was ashen and sweating. All from a simple touch. "You need to go to the hospital."

If he went to the hospital to receive treatment, the bureau would find out about it. They'd cancel his certification test. "No. I'm not going. I'm fine. Nothing's broken." His eyesight was off, however. Staring at Brennan was like looking under a microscope. She'd grow fuzzy before coming back into focus again.

"I know at least one rib is definitely broken."

"And what can they do about it? Please, Bones." He groaned. "I just want to sleep."

It wasn't so much what they could do to help him. It was what else she could discover that he was concealing from her. Defeated, she darkened the room once again. "Fine." They'd revisit the issue in the morning. Perhaps then she would remind him that a physician would be performing an exam regardless before his recertification test.

A few hours later her cell phone rang. Her new partner was calling her to a murder scene. She hung up feeling irritated. Her presence was needed more at home than at work, in her opinion. Even still, she readied under the glow of a single lamp so as not to wake Booth. Before leaving she took a look at him.

His face was in a hardened scowl. Over the side of his hip he continuously rubbed his hand. His behavior to her suggested a dream. Though the usual signs weren't there, she could tell he didn't feel safe. His hand was searching for a non existent gun in an imaginary holder. Brennan couldn't let him go on. She kissed his forehead. "Booth."

Easily he stirred.

"I have a case. I'll be home soon."

His head flopped to one side. He resumed sleeping long before she'd left the room.

* * *

"So did you hear?"

Brennan grit her teeth. The sun was just beginning to rise. The atmosphere was already dripping with humidity. She was dressed head to toe in a full nylon investigative suit. She had no tolerance for idle gossip. "Hear what?" She asked in a flat voice. From out of a marsh she removed the remains of a skull.

Agent Carrey looked unfoundedly proud of himself for breaking the news to her. "Someone was attacked in the parking garage last night. Word is he's not an agent but he works somewhere in the building. The guy fought him off, and then refused help even though he was bleeding."

A bad feeling came over her. "Do they know who it was?"

"No. Security tapes are being checked but no one is positive they'll get an ID. I just can't believe the guy took off. It was a good beat down, from what I heard."

Brennan logged the knowledge away. She had a feeling she knew what happened to Booth.

* * *

Alyssa's cries woke Booth up before the alarm did. "Agroufh." He grunted an unintelligible sound. "Hold on, baby! I'm coming." He about cried from the sharp pain in his ribs when he sat up. The Vicodin had obviously worn off. "Okay. You can do this. You have to get ready for work anyway." He gave himself a pep talk. Uneasily he rose from the bed. Stiff he was as he took to Alyssa. Just as it had the night before, his vision unfocused before correcting itself. "And maybe daddy will call off today." He eased her up from her crib. "Oh, daddy needs drugs. First though, feed the kid." He told his daughter. She giggled, cuddling against his side and exacerbating the problem. "Come on," he grunted, hauling her downstairs.

She slapped her hands against the tray of her highchair when he sat her down inside of it. He rifled through cabinets until he found a box of infant cereal. Pouring some in a bowl, he placed it down on the tray before sitting down in front of her. The pain ricocheted up his side. "God." He jumped to his feet with tears in his eyes. "How am I ever going to do this, Lissie?"

One by one she was picking out the pieces. Some she chewed. Some she spit on the floor. Either way, she was much too busy with her task to pay any attention to her father. Booth kissed the top of her head, brushing her brown hair back with his thumb. "I have to get back into the FBI. I've wasted so many years of my life. I need to do something productive. I need to keep people safe from ending up like me."

_Booth twisted against the rope binding him. Amanda swept down over him. She jabbed the needle of a syringe into his side and injected the contents. "You'll never get away from me again."_

Booth shook his head vigorously. "I'm over what happened. Mostly. Most days. But I want to be better than what I am. I know I can do better than this. I just have to get there."

Alyssa was reaching for him. He held out his hand. She locked her tiny fist around one of his fingers. Then she threw him for a large shock by gleefully declaring, "dad-dee."

For a while now she'd been making sounds with different inflections. A good portion of what she'd said sounded like English, but made no sense. This truly was her first word. "Yeah." He gasped. "Daddy."

Excitement was causing him to near burst. To hell with Brennan being at work. He simply had to bother her. She needed to know their daughter was a genius. Away from Alyssa's side he went to get his cell phone. Part way through the living room a feeling dropped him like a ton of bricks. His mind ceased conscious thought producation. His knees gave out on him and he knelt down onto the floor. Had he been more alert he would have winced in pain to the sudden condensing motion of his ribs.

His body was preparing itself for a seizure. He was unable to process anything more as he fell down onto his chest and exploded into frenzied, uncontrolled movements.

* * *

"Brennan."

"Dr. Brennan, it's Hacker. Is Booth with you?"

"No. Why would he be?"

"I don't know. It's just, he never came into work and he hasn't called. I haven't been able to reach him by phone."

Panic. "I'll call you back."

* * *

Brennan was bellowing for Booth before she was all the way inside her home. She could hear Alyssa wailing, and so that drew her attention first. She located her baby sitting in a high chair in the kitchen. Cereal lay on the floor all around her. The hunter green bowl had rolled underneath the table. "It's all right." Brennan shushed her. She removed her from the chair and rocked her. A glance around the kitchen gave evidence of Booth. But it didn't appear that he'd been there for quite a while. "Booth!" She called again. "Where's your daddy?" She questioned Alyssa in a gentle voice.

"Dad-dee." Alyssa repeated for a second time. Brennan slid to a stop. "That's right." She murmured, completely astonished. "Daddy."

Brennan carried her into the next room. It was there she found Booth face down on the floor. To her it appeared as though he'd fallen. His limbs were displayed oddly. His head was turned to the side. It frightened her all the more to realize he wasn't moving. Before going to call for paramedics she laid Alyssa down in her playpen.

"Booth?" She bent down by his side. Blood stained his lips. Carefully she forced his mouth open. Motion caused a reddish liquid that still occasionally formed from a wound on his tongue. He'd bit down, indicating to her he'd had a seizure. "Oh, Booth." _There's no use in worrying. It's not as though this hasn't happened before. _But what happened before was irrelevant. This was happening _now._

* * *

Proper examination at the hospital provided Brennan with all the information she'd been seeking. Booth indeed had broken two ribs, and was fortunate they hadn't caused more damage during his episode. In addition he had received a concussion, and internal bruising between his shoulder blades near his spine. "These kind of extensive injuries weren't caused by any seizure."

"No. I know they weren't." As more proof surfaced she was sure it'd been Booth who'd been attacked in the parking garage in the bureau. Why hadn't he just told her the truth?

"We're keeping him overnight."

She'd expected that.

"You're welcome to see him. He's not entirely coherent. But he's refusing any kind of medication to dull the pain."

Brennan didn't understand. "Why?"

"It's unclear. But if he refuses there's little we can do."

Booth looked as though he was sleeping when she joined him some time later. He was as sheer white as the bleached sheets he was laying on. _He's in pain. Why won't he accept pain killers? _It was absolutely ludicrous. She strode to his side and picked up the remote attached to his IV to distribute medication. Before she could press the button he imperceptibly took it away from her. Partly his eyes opened.

"You didn't fall off a treadmill. After working out you were injured in a fight in the parking garage of the bureau." She accused in a low, intense voice. "You've had broken ribs… a concussion… back bruising! Why didn't you tell me the truth? Why are you still trying to protect me?"

He remained mum. He was barely withstanding keeping his eyes open.

"You don't want to accept medication because of the bureau." She realized. "Booth, if you think you're recertifying next week, you're foolish. You're too injured. You had a seizure. You're not doing anything until you've rested properly, healed, and we've discussed a few things."

Through his slit eyes she could see the stone cold glare. He was angry his jig was up. With a sigh she kissed him. In a single sweep she removed the remote from his hand and firmly pressed down on the button before he could react. "You've taught me some tricks," she whispered to him as he let out an unconscious breath of relief. Still he tried to fight the sensation by keeping his eyes open.

"Sleep." She ordered him. "You're going to need it. You have a lot of explaining to do."


	95. Fighting For More

Booth slept straight through until the following morning. Brennan remained with him as time allotted. Any medication that terminated his pain was always extra beneficial by giving him adequate rest. Knowing that it took such powerful prescriptions to truly relax him was difficult for her. It wasn't as though this was the case only while hospitalized. Even at home Booth only slept his best when drugged. Sometimes during her worst waking nightmares she pictured him becoming addicted to sedatives once again; heading down that same dangerous path he'd needed help to veer away from. She knew his desire for such release was always there. The addict's curse.

Something internally told her she wouldn't blame him if he did. This episode was only the latest in the line of abuse sustained to his body. After he'd finished treating Booth his doctor had permitted her to view his x-rays. He'd been extraordinarily lucky that a rib hadn't punctured a lung wall through all the convulsing caused by his seizure. In properly studying the films she'd really taken in all the damage that had been inflicted to his body over the years. They confirmed what she already knew - he was fortunate to be alive. But she had to imagine he was in some sort of low grade daily pain. From what she could see he wouldn't be able to withstand much more before some sort of serious event took place, be it paralysis or death. "I wish I could make you understand." She whispered to him now. "Sometimes someone else has to play the hero."

By morning he was ready to be discharged. The couple only said a few polite words here and there to one another while readying to leave. Soon as the last paper was signed Booth was striding off the unit with Brennan jogging to keep up.

The car ride home went the same way. In the silence Brennan's thoughts stirred more and more until they'd kicked up a dust storm in her head. "Why do you do it?" The question popped out.

"Huh? Why do I do what? What are you talking about?"

"Booth, do you understand how easily you could have died? If even one of your fractured ribs pierced your lung you likely would have been dead before I ever reached you. I just don't understand why you keep doing this to yourself."

"What am I doing, Bones? I don't understand."

"I know you were attacked, Booth. You should have told me the truth. Your injuries were not caused by any fall."

Clearly he was baffled as to what she was talking about. "All right. Fine. Yeah, I lied. I got jumped when I was leaving the bureau. It wasn't a big deal-"

"You were injured. Severely. You should have asked for help." The intensity in her voice died down. "You never ask for help. I feel as though you think you're still on your own, that only you can take care of you. I've tried again and again to show you that isn't the case anymore. It's as though you'd rather torture yourself for reasons I don't understand. Perhaps its survivor's guilt."

"Survivor's guilt?"

Brennan nodded. "Sweets told me about it."

"What do I have to feel guilty over?"

"You survived hell, Booth. You recovered from trauma that most people wouldn't have. Riley wasn't so lucky. You want to save everyone but yourself, and you couldn't help her. So you feel guilty."

"Don't bring her into this." His dark voice conjured chills down her spine. "It's got nothing to do with any kind of guilt. I couldn't tell you what happened because I knew you'd make me go to the hospital. I didn't want anyone knowing I was hurt because it would get back to the bureau-"

It all returned full circle. His impulses were driven by his desire to become an agent once again. Brennan exploded. "To hell with the bureau! Booth, they are never going to recertify you! Certainly not now! Have you comprehended anything I've said to you? Your skeleton is injured beyond repair! You have brain damage. Do I need to remind you that you just had a seizure?"

"So you're not supporting me?"

He just wasn't opening himself up to hear her. She felt like tearing her hair out section by section. "It has nothing to do with support. I'm being realistic, which is what you should be. Do you realize the risk you run of being permanently paralyzed? You basically came back from the dead, Booth. Multiple times. And you're still expecting the same amount out of your body. Eventually it just isn't going to be able to do it anymore. You're risking everything-"

His own temper he'd been managing to hold at bay through her entire tirade erupted like hot lava. "What else am I supposed to do? Give up? Is that what you want?"

"I want you to realize what you're doing to yourself! I don't want anything to happen to you!"

"Why are you so sure something will?"

"Because I know you. You won't be satisfied until you've exhausted out all the resources your body has to draw on." _You won't stop until you're dead. _Unexpectedly she shed a tear.

Afterwards the space filled with tense silence could have swallowed them whole. It wasn't until Brennan pulled into the driveway of their home that Booth began to speak again calmly. "I'm sorry, Bones. You're right. I shouldn't have lied to you. Yeah, I got into a fight in the parking garage at the bureau. Riley's boyfriend blind sided me."

Brennan gasped.

"He's out to get me for turning him in to the police. It's important for me to recertify so I can access what I need to go after him." He looked to her with emotion in his deep, chocolate eyes. "I don't need to bust him for me, or Riley. I need to get him for anyone who's ever been abused. I need to put a stop to this. And you're right." He opened the car door and got out. "I won't stop till he's behind bars. I won't quit till it's done." The door slammed shut. Alone he headed up towards the house.

Brennan just couldn't bring herself to join him. First she needed some time to properly process the new information she'd been given and let the flames burning within her chest die down. She reversed the car back out onto the street. With a push of the accelerator she was off and running with no real destination. The end result didn't matter so much as the journey.

Her mind was in constant thought while she drove, paying little attention to where she was going. She didn't really know what to do with the new knowledge, or what she was supposed to do, precisely. Riley's boyfriend had emerged from the edge of the unknown to assault her husband. Had he been trying to kill him? Should she have asked Booth for a replay of the events? Did she really want the details?

No. She just wanted Booth to stop. She wanted to place him in a plastic bubble and stow him away like a favorite pair of shoes, worn often but well protected. There was no reason to doubt his insistence that he would keep fighting, keep hunting until he felt he was finished. Somewhere in a dark part of her heart this pleased her. The Booth he'd been before his abduction would have behaved in exactly the same manner. The white knight syndrome was still deeply rooted in the matter of his mind. But she knew this pleasure came with a steep price; the possibility of a life lost.

Suddenly she heard the sound of a loud combustion just as the steering wheel jerked in her hands. Immediately following she heard what could be described as floppy pancakes slapping the pavement. "Damn!" She cursed. She'd blown a tire.

She pulled off onto the side of the road. Leaving the hazard lights on, she'd just exited the car when she was caught in the glow of headlights. A massive, black SUV came to a stop just behind her. "Whoo-wee!" The guy exclaimed as she slid out from the driver's seat. "You all right, ma'am? I saw the whole thing. You musta hit a nail or something."

"I'm fine." Brennan popped the trunk release. She'd taught herself years ago how to change a tire. But did she have the proper equipment with her? Did she have a jack? Did she even have a spare tire, for that matter?

"Well, do ya need some help?"

Her handed skirted over a miscellaneous array of items. Nothing in the trunk could help her change a tire. Not that she had a spare, as she discovered. "I can call for my husband."

"Nonsense. I'm here. What can I do for you?"

"Perhaps you'd be willing to give me a ride to the closest gas station?"

The man's voice transitioned into a menacing tone. "I'll give you a ride, all right."

Before she could turn around a blunt object struck her in the back of the head. She collapsed down onto the ground, out cold.


	96. Pride

Brennan woke in complete utter darkness. She was folded up in the fetal position. Her knees were jammed uncomfortably against her breasts. Neon hues of color swam before her eyes with each throb of pressure that ricocheted throughout her skull. "Booth?" She questioned deliriously. "What happened to me?"

Only Booth didn't answer her. All was silent except for the noise of crickets somewhere in the distance. In fragments scenes of what felt like a past life came back to her. The blown tire. The car who had stopped to assist. A jolt from behind that had dropped her like a bag of books. She'd been abducted. "Booth." She repeated his name again. How long had she been missing? Was he aware that she'd been taken? Was he looking for her? _This must have been how he felt. _She struggled to hold back tears of fear and sorrow. _Now isn't the time to be scared. You've dealt with dangerous tribes in countries that are unknown to most. You can get yourself out of this._

Her muscles didn't want to cooperate when she tested them. Onto her stomach she rolled into a push up position. Weakly her arm muscles quivered when she tried to force herself upwards. She was barely off the scratchy carpeted floor when her shoulder blades rubbed up against a surface. _No! _She fell back down. All around her she reached out to find she'd been inserted in a tightly confined space. _I've been buried alive again! _Immediately she forced herself to breathe. _You don't know that. _

What she did realize were how highly the odds were stacked against her. In a search of her body she found her car keys and phone had been taken away. Without a light to see by she had absolutely no idea what was around her. The impact to her brain had left her reeling, and slightly incoherent. She couldn't keep a straight thought.

_Booth, _she thought, squeezing her eyes closed. _He'll find me._

* * *

Booth slept, unaware of the threat against his wife's life. Since he'd arrived at home alone he saw no shame in downing a few painkillers and stretching his aching body out over the couch. Since Alyssa was with Max there was no one he needed to be concerned with, though Brennan's wordless departure distressed him. He figured if time alone was what she needed than that was the least he could give her. It seemed he hadn't been able to do much else to please her lately.

He understood why she was so upset. It wasn't as though he couldn't feel the wreckage throughout his body. The occasional pain he'd sometimes felt long ago had only been amplified by all he'd been through, and plagued him persistently. Amanda's heinous torture for a year had more than taken it's toll. More than he'd let anyone know. Even in his weakest hours he needed to project the image of power. His pride wouldn't accept any less. In his attempts at trying to return to normalcy it was important he find the man he once was, even if that person was forever lost.

Brennan was also correct in her assumption that he needed to handle his affairs alone. Whether it was because of a desire for self inflicted punishment, or because of "survivor's guilt," as she'd put it, he was unsure. The truth was his thought patterns couldn't seem to conform to his new life. For that year in captivity Amanda had brainwashed him into submission. As a result he'd only been able to depend on himself for savior. Logically he knew that was no longer the case. Brennan was willing to do anything for him, and certainly had. But reformatting his mind was tougher than anyone understood. He felt as though a part of him would always be trapped in a dark, looming basement waiting with cold apprehension to see if the next attack would take his life.

Survivor's guilt had little to do with anything. There wasn't a day that went by in which he didn't think of Riley. He indeed blamed himself for not being able to rescue her from the hardships of her life. At night when he laid awake unable to sleep he replayed their conversation at the train station. Was there something more he could have done? Was there something else he should have done? Sure, he felt guilty. But it had nothing to do with surviving. It had everything to do with saving.

The ringing of his cell phone coaxed him from his peaceful rest. "Booth," he slurred. On the other end he waited for Brennan to speak. Since his eyes hadn't been open enough to glance at the caller's identification he'd just assumed.

"Booth, it's Agent Carrey."

"Who?"

"I'm partnered with your wife."

This was already making little sense to him. "No. She didn't go to work today."

"I know. Look, we found her car abandoned on the side of the road."

Booth sat up so fast he about cried in pain from the sharp jab in his chest. His body refused to let him forget where he'd been. "What?"

"It's got a flat tire. The police are investigating. I got wind of it and came over." The agent exhaled roughly. "They're suspecting foul play."

_Ben. _Instantly he knew. Before he could ask for additional details Carrey supplied them. "There's blood on the ground. They're thinking it's hers."

He was on his feet in a heartbeat. "Where are you?" He hung up promptly after receiving the directions. Upstairs he ran, ignoring the warning sign of pain his body was propelling through him. He flung open the top drawer of the nightstand next to his bed, nearly disconnecting it from the frame. Inside laid his weapon. He did a quick check to see how many rounds he had inside. If needed, he anticipated on using them all. "Hold on, Bones." He whispered.

* * *

Speed limits were ignored. Booth drove as fast as he could push his car. He ran red lights, praying to whomever was listening for the safety of both his and Brennan's lives the entire time. All he needed was to be in a crash. Brennan would be as good as gone if that were to happen to him.

For a second time his cell phone rang as he was flying along. "Booth!" He barked into the mouth piece before he'd even completely picked up the call.

"My guess is you know she's missing by now."

Booth froze. "Ben, if so much as _one hair _is out of place on her-"

"Wow, you're dramatic. Why don't you come see for yourself?"

It was a challenge Booth was seeking. "Tell me where you are."

There was a devious grin in Ben's voice as he relayed the vital information. Booth did a u-turn right in the middle of the street, cutting off several drivers. Their words and horns of protest fell on deaf ears. If possible Booth drove even faster. "I'll be there."

"And come alone. There better not be no cops with you. This fight is between you and me."

Booth's jaw tightened. "Then how come you kidnapped my wife?"

"Had to get your attention somehow."

"I think the baseball bat to my rib cage did that."

Ben laughed before ending the call. Booth dropped his phone in frustration in the seat next to him. He resisted an urge to throw it.

Time ticked by while Booth drove far away from the bustling streets of D.C. The address to led him a house secluded deep in the heart of a wooded area. "Great." Booth sighed out loud. Ben definitely intended for this to be their last meeting, which was more than fine with Booth. But the development shook his confidence. He was already injured. If the tables turned and his life was on the line it seemed he'd perish before anyone would arrive for help. Worse, if Brennan were critically hurt, particularly when she was pregnant… he shuddered at the contemplation.

Just in front of the house he rolled to a stop. He jumped out with his gun in his hands. It may have been years since he was an agent but the training was all still imprinted. He moved about stealthily, ready for action. He'd just about reached the front door when he heard a faint pounding. There was another vehicle parked on the pebbled drive. From what he was able to determine firsthand the din seemed to be coming from the trunk. _Bones. _He ran as fast as he could. "Bones?"

"Booth!" Her muffled voice answered him frantically.

He tried prying his fingers underneath the lid and pulling. Naturally it was locked. "Hold on!" From the trunk he traced his steps back to the driver's side window. With a mighty blow from his fisted gun the glass shattered. He reached inside and unlocked the door. Then he pulled the lever to release the trunk.

Brennan was already pushing herself up when he returned. Booth took her into his arms. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?" _Carrey said they found blood._

"My head. I think I was struck."

Booth didn't doubt it. With tender care he assisted her down onto her feet. He yanked his cell phone from the pocket of his jeans. "I want you to go get in my car. Lock the doors. Crouch down and call for help."

Brennan realized his plan of action. "No, Booth. You can't do this. You're hurt. Come with me. We can just drive away and contact the police."

"He'll be gone before they get here. I've lived for years in fear, Bones. We're not doing it. It ends here."

She was unsure as to what he was talking about. "But-"

"Go!" He ordered. Resentfully she limped to his car. Booth asserted she was safe and secure he resumed his position. He jogged straight to the front door. One twist of the doorknob and he found himself entering the living room. He'd taken a few steps when the sound of the door slamming behind him drew his attention. He whirled around.

Ben grinned at him like a Cheshire cat. "I wasn't sure you'd really come."

Booth inhaled sharply between his teeth. "Lets just get this over with." He brought his gun level with Ben's chest. "Surrender, or I'll shoot."

Ben charged forward. Booth discharged a round squarely into the upper fleshy part of the man's femur. He moaned, dropping down onto one knee. His hands covered the wound that blood was now oozing from. Then, to Booth's complete surprise, he stood again. "Gonna have to do better than that, fed." Despite the injury he moved faster than Booth could react. Then and there he realized he was in a lot more trouble than he'd bargained for.


	97. New Divide

The first loud gunshot caused Brennan to jump. The second and third brought forth tears to her eyes that she nearly cried out. A large gap took place before she heard the fourth and fifth. She trembled and gave up on trying to fight back her emotion. She thought Booth had been the only one armed. There was a wide margin for error in that thinking. Since the kidnapping she hadn't seen her abductor. Yet Booth seemed to know exactly who he was facing. He'd been prepared. She tried to take heart in that. Above all else Booth was a fighter.

The sixth shot nearly had her scrambling from the car. Booth could go to hell if he expected her to stay put. Had the situation been reversed she knew he would have come charging in like the white knight he was convinced he was. But as she reached for the door handle his voice echoed in her mind. _It's not just about you, Bones. Think about the baby. _Her grip loosened. Subliminal Booth was right. Protecting their child was her most important duty.

All was silent from then on out. No one emerged from the house. _Something's wrong. Booth would have come back for me. _She stood on her knees, discreetly peeking out the window of the backseat. There wasn't much to see. Nothing in the environment had changed. _At the very least I could check the windows in the home. I might be able to determine if Booth is all right or needs help. _Her mind was made up with little coaxing. She slipped from the vehicle, stopping long enough to snatch a tire iron from the trunk. Up to the house she crept. Against the siding she flattened her body. Just slightly did she lean sideways to take a look inside. Though the view was distorted because of the curtains she could see a large man laying flat on his back.

_It appears Booth won. But then where is he? _She pushed her trip of curiosity a step further. With the iron raised in the air she twisted the door knob and let herself inside. Sure enough, the man that had attacked her lay dead on the floor. A penny sized dot of blood pierced his forehead. That had obviously been the final shot. Yet the front of his shirt and part of his jeans were saturated with blood. _Booth shot him six times, if what I heard was correct. _Brennan took time to carefully count the evidence of the injuries. There were only five. _Why did it take so much effort to kill him? _It was obvious that had it not been for the kill shot the two would still be fighting. _Where is the missing bullet? And where's Booth? _

Just over the crest of the hallway leading into the kitchen his discarded weapon lay. With a sense of foreboding dread she took to it. She didn't dare touch it. Since the real threat had ended she assumed the police would want to collect it during the investigation that was sure to take place. "Booth?" She called out hopelessly. On tentative feet she pushed deeper through the house to cross into the kitchen.

She tried to engage in thinking as he would while she searched. Had he hidden himself? Why would he do so? Had he left? If so, why and where would he have gone? Ben was dead by Booth's own hand. There was no need for such a drastic tactic. Every moment in which he was lost to her increased her state of anxiousness. This wasn't typical behavior from him. In the distance she heard sirens.

"Booth?" Again, she tried. She was so absorbed in her search that she wasn't aware her shoe was untied until she near tripped herself up. The distraction brought her gaze down to the floor. For the first time she noticed the hint of a shirt sleeve edging out from underneath a table centered in the room. Down she dropped onto one knee. Sure enough, that had been where he'd finally crawled for safety.

He'd rolled up onto his side with his back facing her. In the back of his shirt over the shoulder was a small tear. Blood had soaked the material. _The missing bullet. _He was breathing heavily, and much too fast. One arm was tucked tightly against his chest protectively.

"Booth, it's me. I'm going to rotate you so I can look at you, okay?" She spoke in a slow, calm manner. On the inside she felt anything but. Since he didn't respond she rolled him into her waiting arms. His head she braced in her lap. He cringed greatly, and nearly jerked his body away from her. The arm hugging himself tightened. From her angle now she could see he'd taken a blow to the head as well. The area just above his eye was weeping blood. Any lower and he likely would have suffered irreparable damage.

A sickening scenario was forming. Ben had overpowered Booth in a struggle for his weapon. He'd slashed him across the head with it, striking his forehead when he'd surely been aiming for his temple. Booth had been disabled, therefore unable to defend himself against the lousy shot. Then somehow, be it adrenaline or some other force, Booth had managed to regain possession. He'd killed him then and there.

There was more to the story than that. But that was the only explanation she had for the final moments of their conflict. Judging by the way Booth was cradling himself, it was obvious to Brennan that he'd taken an additional hard hit to his rib cage. The fractured bone had likely snapped. Knowing that his attention was drawn there and not the bullet wound to his shoulder solidified her theory.

She continued to hold him in hopes of easing some of his pain. The faint sounds of sirens were growing stronger. Help was on the way. _ You should have just waited for them. _She sniffed, forced to do nothing as the color drained from his face. _Why didn't you wait for back up? _Because time was the enemy. Booth said himself that Ben easily could have vanished if they'd held off. _Then he should have waited to rescue me. I would have survived. _But she knew he believed that had he waited for help there was a strong chance she'd have been dead before anyone would have come to his assistance. There was no way he'd ever make such a gamble with her life. "Instead you gambled yours," she whispered out loud.

He closed his eyes, huddling into her. She still held onto him even after the door was broken from its hinges and help stormed the scene. Someone touched her shoulder. She snapped from her trance to glimpse into the eyes of a paramedic. "It's okay. He'll be all right now."

"I hope," she whispered, releasing him.

* * *

**A Few Months Later**

Brennan flipped through the pages of a well worn magazine. Celebrities she'd never heard of were featured on the cover. She tried to summon up interest but couldn't seem to do so. It was only sheer boredom that had driven her to retrieve the periodical in the first place. For the most part she liked to think she'd grown in tolerating her own impatience. But the wait outside Dr. Sweets' office was always tough. She spent a great deal of time counting down the minutes until Booth emerged.

The door opened. Booth schlepped out with lowered shoulders. He didn't so much as glance in Brennan's direction as he exited the office entirely to head for the elevator. Brennan dropped her reading material into the pile with the others. She and Sweets shared a look of defeat. "Still nothing?"

Sweets shook his head. "He just won't communicate with me."

"You're not the only one." Brennan relieved herself up from her chair. A small stomach was beginning to grow. It seemed like forever ago she'd told him she was pregnant, when it all reality it'd been five months.

Something had changed in Booth after he'd killed Ben in self defense. He'd woken up from his wounds in the hospital a changed person. A desolate person. Brennan had thought it originally due to his head injury, but over time she'd bought into Sweets' hypothesis instead. "Booth pushed Riley's death away from him. He didn't let himself grieve her. He focused all his attention on getting reinstated and hunting her boyfriend." He'd explained to her. "But now that Ben's dead there's been resolution. That resolution is forcing him to deal with the death of a friend whether he likes it or not."

They'd learned from an autopsy that Ben had been high off of illegal substances. That was why it had taken such deadly means to end his life.

Brennan didn't believe it was just Riley, however. In the night when he woke shuddering and reaching for her, that was Amanda. When she noted how he stared at the antidepressants the hospital had sent him home with for a little _too_ long, that was his addiction. Or when he came back dejected after not being able to run as far as he once could. That was the cancer that had torn through his body and mind. All these had left their effects on him. Riley's demise was the catalyst, yes. But she had a feeling that part of his breakdown was a long time coming.

"What do I do?" She questioned Sweets. Booth only ever seemed truly happy when he was with his children. Parker and Alyssa got him to smile genuinely. The rest of the time he just laid around, nursing his healing body back to health. Understanding his limitations for the first time had been another factor for the decline his mental health. It'd been months since he'd even mentioned getting reinstated. Work that had once been a priority had been put on the back burner. He'd taken an extended leave of absence.

Sweets exhaled deeply. "Get him out of here."

Brennan didn't understand. "What?"

"Yeah." The young man straightened, putting strength behind his words. "Take a vacation. Just get him somewhere where he isn't haunted by what he's been through every time he turns around. I can't promise it will get him in a different head space. But it might help. And don't you think you two owe it to one another after everything that's happened to you?"

"A vacation." She repeated.

"Yeah. You can bring Alyssa with you or leave her here so you can focus on the two of you."

It seemed too simple. "But how do I help him? What do I do?"

"Dr. Brennan, I believe that when the time comes, you'll know exactly what to do for him."

Dumbfounded, she muttered to herself again, "vacation," while she walked out.

Booth had already let himself into their car. His head was laid back on the seat. His eyes were closed. As usual these days he had his arm guardedly against his side, shielding his injury. For the most part he'd healed. But Brennan imagined the area would always be tender, and he would always be particular about the area of weakness. The wound through his shoulder had been clean and hadn't taken too long to repair itself. His forehead had required stitches. That too was mostly fixed, except for a slight scar.

She climbed into the driver's seat besides him. He opened his eyes and looked to her. "What?" He noticed the strange look on her face.

"Do you want to go to Hawaii?"


	98. Laying Down The Law

"Dad-dee?"

"Hmm?"

"Food."

Booth's eyes strained open. His daughter was sitting besides him in bed. The morning light shining in through the window created an aurora around Alyssa's petite frame. "What? How'd you get out of your crib?"

"Momma."

He checked the bed besides him. Sure enough, Brennan had begun her day hours ago. The sheets were neatly folded on her side. "You're hungry? Can't momma make you food?"

"No!" She slapped her hands against his chest. "You!"

He tried not to wince. Her small hands couldn't possibly inflict any damage to his ribs. But the unconscious reflex would always be programmed into his mind. Amanda had essentially trained him to expect the experience of pain. "Jus' give me five more minutes," he begged her. His eyes were already shutting in hopes of resuming his rest.

"Dad-dee." She crawled on top of him.

Her hands weren't injuring, but having her thirty pound body weight pressing down on him was excruciating. Abruptly he sat up, dropping her back down onto the mattress. She giggled happily. His gaze fell down at her. He marveled how there in that moment she resembled her mother so much, he felt Brennan were watching him instead. "All right. I'm up."

She scurried from the room. Booth swung his legs around the side of the bed. For a moment he sat totally still. The truth was he didn't want to get out of bed. For months he hadn't desired much more besides sleep. Fulfilling most of his basic needs held no interest for him. He could have cared less about himself. The dark place he'd fallen into had swallowed him whole. No one could save him. He couldn't save himself.

Family still remained a priority, despite it all. They were the only reason he was able to somewhat function daily. He didn't like to exhibit his true feelings before Parker and Alyssa. Likely Alyssa wouldn't have comprehended, but Parker would have known instantly all was not right with his father. Therefore Booth burned all his energy pretending in his presence.

In the kitchen Alyssa had trotted to Brennan's side. The woman had set her daughter in her lap. She had her portable computer on the table in front of her. Various brochures and other printed literature were spread out all around her. "Hi." She half smiled at him.

He just nodded. He accepted Alyssa from her and placed the baby in her high chair. "Pancakes?"

She nodded and repeated expertly, "cakes."

He dug through various cabinets and cupboards and retrieved the supplies he needed. Brennan tried to keep a conversation going. "I find it hard to believe she's going to be two soon."

"Uh huh."

"I offered to make her breakfast. She wanted you." She watched him work. "Would you like me to clear off a space on the table?"

"What for?"

"Aren't you eating?"

"No."

She wasn't sure how to proceed. She really wanted to avoid upsetting him. "Aren't you supposed to take your medication with a meal?"

"I'm not taking it." He flipped a formed pancake. "It doesn't help. Nothing helps."

"…how long have you not been taking it? Booth, we can call your doctor and switch onto something else. Something that's right." Realistically though, they were running out of options. Because of Booth's addiction to sedatives, medicating him was tricky. Yet part of her wished they could provide him with some sort of an anti anxiety drug. He may have been depressed and apathetic, but she could still clearly spot the nervousness in his body.

"There's no point." He finished cooking. From another cupboard he withdrew a plastic bowl. Carefully he began cutting the pancake up into small pieces and placing the scraps inside.

"Do I need to be worried about you?" She wondered quietly. She was, of course. Her meaning was whether she needed to be more concerned than usual. She tried to peek at his arms for any signs of self abuse. There weren't any. She wasn't sure how to feel. Booth's self mutilation in the past had been about relieving an emotional pain nothing else was able to take away. If he wasn't even trying… what disaster did that spell?

He shrugged with his back still towards her. He turned around to fetch the syrup when for the first time he noticed a brown padded mailing envelope on the counter. The messy scribbled address was made out to him. "What's this?"

"I don't know. A mail courier dropped that off this morning."

He finished with Alyssa's meal and set the bowl down in front of her. Then he returned to the package. The name with the return address was slightly familiar to him. "I think this is Riley's attorney." He'd heard through rumors that Riley had executed a will, proving to Booth that she had expected Ben to kill her sooner or later.

"It feels as though there's something inside. She must have wanted you to have something of hers."

He stood stoic, just staring at the package. "I don't want to open it right now." He finally said with a sharp edge in his voice.

"Don't you want to know what's inside? What she intended for you to have?"

"No." He turned away.

An understanding dawned on her for the first time. Or maybe this was Booth's first time showing it. "You're mad at Riley."

"I'm going back to bed." He headed for the stairs.

"Booth!" She hollered after him. It was useless. He was on the run and nothing would slow him down.

Alyssa jabbered and threw a piece of pancake at her. She then laughed, which erased the minor annoyance Brennan had felt. "We have to make your dad feel better." She told her. "I'm afraid he's going to make himself very sick again if we don't."

Hours passed by before she trailed Booth upstairs cradling Alyssa. The two entered their bedroom. Booth had been on his side, and rolled onto his back when he heard them come in. Her hardened expression immediately made him wary.

"I'm going to speak, and you're going to listen." She began in a calm, but steeled voice. "In two days we are going to Hawaii. You are going. I will hear no protests. The arrangements have already been made. Alyssa will be going to stay with Angela and Hodgins. And while we are out on the island you are going to figure out whatever is bothering you. Whatever it is, Booth, you're going to deal with it. You're going to deal with and purge it, because after how hard we've worked to keep you alive I'll be damned if I am going to lose you to the darkness of your own mind. I understand that the brain damage you sustained left you with mental disorders. And I understand you have emotional scars that will likely never heal. But that doesn't mean you have to drown in them. You don't have to hold all that in and selfishly keep it to yourself. Your thinking that you are protecting me is misguided. I can handle it, Booth. Whatever it is you're thinking or feeling, I'm here for you. I want to be here for you, if you'd let me. We're family."

He blinked. "I guess there isn't anything more to say then." Back onto his side he maneuvered.

"No." She echoed. "I guess there isn't."

* * *

"Ladies and gentlemen, if you could please fold up your trays and turn off all electronic devices, we will be preparing for our final descent into Honolulu International."

Brennan sat up straighter in her seat. She looked to Booth whom had fallen asleep with his head pressed up against the window hours earlier. She couldn't keep herself from flashing back on the last time they'd ridden a plane, where his brain tumors had left him reeling in the bathroom the entire trip.

She'd been surprised by Booth's behavior. He'd said little to her in the few days following her speech. That morning she'd expected resistance from him. She'd been prepared for his worst. But he'd woken up with his alarm, showered, and dressed. To her ultimate shock she learned that he'd packed his suitcase the night before. However throughout their morning together he'd remained mute.

Over him she leaned now to peer at the landscape. She felt he needed to witness the beauty. "Booth."

He cracked his eyes open.

"Look outside."

His gaze switched from her to outside the window. Turquoise blue ocean water that shone back at them appeared as smooth as glass. The coast was dotted with palm trees that swayed in the wind like waving hands. Mountains jutted from the ground in uneven peaks. The scene was breathtaking.

Straighter he sat in his seat. A smile slowly spread across his face. With the sun shining its rays in on him it gave off the hint of a miracle. Brennan herself couldn't keep from smiling. _Lets hope this works._


	99. So Far Away

Checking into the hotel didn't take long at all. They lugged their baggage up three floors to the room Brennan had booked. And there, they left the hotel and entered paradise. The room was unlike any Brennan had ever been in. All was decorated in brightly tropical colors, with a burnt sienna trim painted along the walls. To the right of the bed were a pair of sliding doors. Beyond them was a balcony that looked out onto the ocean. Booth was drawn to it instantly. He dropped his bag to the floor, leaving it behind and letting himself outside. Brennan let him have his privacy. She only hoped he'd gone out there to enjoy the scenery, and not for ulterior motives.

She was unpacking when he came back inside. He kicked off his shoes, shed his shirt, and climbed into bed. Brennan didn't push him for conversation. In all reality she was glad he was attempting to rest. Though he'd spent weeks passing most of his time in bed she knew he wasn't ever well rested. Here maybe that would finally change. She stopped what she was doing to stand over him. "Roll onto your stomach." She requested.

He narrowed his eyes with confusion, but did as asked. Next to him she bent on one knee against the mattress. Her hands went to work on his back, expertly massaging his skin. The scars acted as map for her to decide which areas to pay more attention to. It was a slight disappointment to her as she went on to hear how silent he was. Ordinarily Booth took her actions as sexual contact, not that she always intended them to be. Soon she heard him snore softly, and understood. What she'd hoped for had happened.

She left him alone for a long period of time. While he slept she took herself down to the beach and explored the new environment. She removed her shoes and walked barefoot in the sand, letting the waves nip at her ankles as they ascended and retreated from shore. She used the time to think things over. Of course, her thoughts were centered around Booth. Mostly, what she would do if this trip wasn't the magic trick she'd hoped for. It was the last ace she had up her sleeve. Booth was making it obvious that counseling was fruitless. If Sweets couldn't get him to open up, she wasn't sure Dr. Wyatt could should she have contacted him. Something about this particular episode had sealed Booth up tight. He'd dug himself deeply into a hole and seemed to be sinking further instead of finding ways to free himself from the entrapment.

By the time she returned to the room she had come up with no answers. Booth was awake, sitting up in bed watching a hockey game on television. It was the first interest she'd seen him take in something in quite a while. "Hey."

"Hi." She dropped her shoes by the door. Next to him she crawled into bed. "What are you watching?"

"I don't really know. All I cared about was that it's hockey."

It seemed like an acceptable Booth answer. She smiled a little. Her stomach chose to rumble in protest over its emptiness at that point. Booth glanced to her out of the corner of his eye. "Hungry?"

"Yes." She wouldn't lie.

"Why don't you order room service?"

She opened the top drawer on the table next to the bed. Inside was a menu. "Will you eat something with me?"

"I'll try."

That was more then he'd given her in weeks. She chose something simple - grilled cheese sandwiches. They wouldn't be nearly as good as he or his Pops made, but at least it would be something in his stomach. After ordering she dared to snuggle close to him. He put his arm around her.

The food arrived. Booth stayed true to his word. He managed to consume half of his sandwich and a handful of French fries before pushing the plate away. Brennan had to imagine he was full. It'd been so long since he'd truly eaten anything more than a few bites, she didn't doubt if his stomach had shrank.

Outside it grew dark. Brennan remained tight against his side, with only the growing baby between them. She stared past him out towards the darkened ocean. A full moon was reflecting back to the heavens on the water's surface. Stars appeared like broken pin pricks in an otherwise clear black sky. Just as she had earlier Brennan felt drawn to it. "Do you want to go for a walk on the beach?" Maybe he'd find the same peace she had.

"Yeah. All right."

The humid night air settled on their skin the moment they stepped outside. Hand in hand they headed for the ocean. Brennan was only a few steps from the hotel when again she was removing her shoes. Booth surveyed her curiously. "What are you doing?"

"Come on!" She hauled him closer to the water. "Take off your shoes and walk with me. It feels amazing."

He shook his head in disbelief, but let her be his mind. He discarded the flip flops he'd worn onto the shore. Then he followed her into the waves. The water was surprisingly warmer than he'd expected. The sand squished between his toes. He hopped up and down a few times, splashing himself.

Brennan meanwhile, was running back and forth as though she were being chased by an invisible demon. She giggled, a smile brighter than he'd seen in quite some time etched on her face. "Come on, Booth!" She kicked a wave of water at him.

He held up his hands to ward off her attack. "Are you sure you should be playing in this water, Bones? It's dirty, and you're pregnant, and-"

Impatiently, she charged up to him. Without breaking gaze she took advantage of his naivety and roughly pushed his shoulders. He tumbled down into the ocean, disappearing beneath the surface. When he popped up he had a mischievous grin. "That's war, Bones."

She took off shrieking with him keeping a close tail behind her. They frolicked through the water, playing games with one another until they ended up in a tight lip lock. Their affection transcended into more as they soon found themselves in the sand making love. Somewhere off in the night natives shot brightly colored fireworks off into the air. The sea of colors washed over the lovers.

Afterwards they dressed and continued to lay in one another's embrace. Brennan looked to Booth to see an expression on his face that she couldn't identify. "What are you thinking about?"

"The truth?" He asked without looking to her.

"Yes."

"The truth is I'm thinking… this wasn't the life I wanted for us."

She propped herself up on an elbow. Now they were getting somewhere. Their tryst had opened him up. "What do you mean?"

He chuckled sadly. "When I used to dream about us being together it wasn't like this. I'm screwed up. I'm always going to be because of what that bitch did to me." She felt his muscles tense. "She nearly killed me. Most of the time I still wish she had. I have this great life, and I'm happy, but I'm still always so depressed."

"That isn't your fault." She was quick to point out. "That's brain damage, Booth. That's a part of yourself you can't change." She laid a hand on his chest. "She damaged you. She didn't take you. Four years ago I felt as though my life had ended because I believed you were dead. I didn't see how you could be alive when no one had heard from you. When neither I nor the police could find any evidence in your abduction. But you preserved. You always have, and you always will."

"I'm always afraid I'm going to get sick again." He confided next. "It wakes me up some nights."

This was news to Brennan. "You aren't always dreaming about Amanda?"

"No. I dream I got cancer all over again, and I'm terminal. Sometimes I die. I wake as you're shutting the coffin on me."

She shuddered. No wonder he woke up in a panic. "Booth-"

"Remission isn't a guarantee. We both know how badly she wanted me to die."

He was right. She took his hand and resumed touching his chest. "I can't promise you won't get sick again. If it happens though, we can handle it. There's so much more we understand now that we didn't before."

"I don't want to always have to live in fear. The antidepressants don't work. I can't take sedatives, which is what I really want." He sighed. Then suddenly, he quipped, "and I just feel like you could do so much better than me. You deserve better than me, than what I can offer you."

"No." She argued in a strong voice. "My life started with you, and that's where it'll end. You are everything to me, Booth. I know you feel weak and broken. I know some days you're so depressed its difficult for you to function. But that's why I'm here. I can be your strength. You're loved," she reminded him. "Perhaps more than you are able to comprehend. You've taught me so much. You helped shape me into a better person. I'll do anything I can to help you; to take away even one iota of your pain."

His Adam's apple bobbed. He was quiet.

"I know you blame yourself for Riley. I know you're angry with her." She continued.

"I'm angry I couldn't save her. But I'm angrier she couldn't save herself." He wiped at his eyes, and she realized for the first time he was crying. "I tried, Bones."

"Yes, you did. You went further with her than I'm sure most people did."

"But it wasn't enough. I loved her like a little sister, you know?" He sniffed. "I drove her from the train station that night straight to the hospital. I tried to keep her safe from Ben, and herself. But she didn't want to save herself. I don't know what else I could have done, but I feel like there should have been something and I feel guilty." He grit his teeth. "And then I get resentful that I feel guilty. I can't save the world."

"No. You can't."

He bit his lip and shook his head. "But I saved mine. Why couldn't she save hers?"

Brennan cradled him. "I think there's a lot to her we didn't know, that we never will. Maybe her father was abusive."

"No, she didn't say he-"

"Just because she didn't tell you, that doesn't mean that it isn't true. Maybe that was the only life she'd ever known. Maybe she was deluded enough to think that under Ben's violence there was love. Maybe that's all she ever really wanted. She was sick, in an entirely different way from you. Her sickness had no cure. You can't blame yourself. It isn't fair to you." She paused, the topic of illness still fresh on her mind. "You don't believe the cancer has come back, do you?"

"No. Not at all. It's just a fear I have every day. Every time I get a new pain I worry." He nodded to her. "You yelled at me, told me I'm too hard on my body. I'm afraid the day I slow down will be the day I die. I live like I do because that's when I feel alive. I need to feel like I'm fulfilling a purpose. Right now I just feel useless."

"You're not useless. You're a caring husband. You're a wonderful father. At the very least you're a survivor. You can't discount everything you've been through. And we'll handle all that you deem wrong. If need be, you can start getting checked three times a month to assure your health. We'll find the right prescription medication for you. Perhaps we can even find a non sedating sleep aid to get you through the night. I know you have some mental illnesses, and I know you will never be completely over the trauma that occurred to you." She squeezed his hand. "But you need to remember that I'm right here with you battling it. You aren't alone."

As she spoke her last words a shooting star streaked across the sky. Booth looked from it to her. Slowly, he smiled.


	100. Unexpected Gifts

Booth was unusually silent during the rest of their time in Hawaii. After their late night beach confession Brennan kept a close eye on him. There were two ways in which he'd react, she reasoned. He'd either improve, or tumble back down into the rabbit hole. Instead he chose a different option for himself outside of her two ideas. He seemed to level out into a mode where he kept strictly to himself. Yet he still spent all of his time around her. She was unsure of what to make of his actions. In the past his quiet was a deep indicator of depression. This time she just didn't receive the right vibe. Whenever she observed him she could determine that he was lost in thought. The wheels were turning in that confused mind of his. She could read it clearly in his eyes.

The night before they were due to leave he made love to her. With the moon shining in through the opened window and the sound of the waves crashing onto the shore she couldn't have imagined a more romantic scene. In his touch she felt something she hadn't gotten from him in quite some time. He was confident, and forward with his desire to pleasure them both. Their time together went on for hours before they were both spent. Contentedly they fell asleep in each other's arms. No words were said. They weren't needed in such a perfect moment.

The following day was full of travel. Booth was back to being mum but a fire had sparked in his gaze. Brennan continued to let him sort himself out, seeing it was best. During the ride home they kept their conversation light, mostly discussing their excitement over seeing Alyssa again. "I've missed her." Booth admitted.

"I know. I have to. I just thought perhaps it would be best for you if it were just us on this trip."

He took her hand into his, squeezing it. "You thought right, Bones."

Her chest inflated with hope. "Does that mean…?"

"I'm getting there." He acknowledged. "I'm climbing the mountain but I'm not at the top yet."

That was good enough for her. It was a sign of change, and that's all she could have asked for. She leaned across the seat and kissed her gratitude against his lips. He kissed back and laid a hand on the bare skin between her neck and shoulder. His fingertips sent shivers up her spine. The simple caress had her wanting more. They were broken apart abruptly by a stewardess. "I'm sorry, but that sort of PDA is frowned upon."

"No, I don't have a personal digital assistant." Brennan wrinkled her nose.

"She means public display of affection." Booth explained. "Seriously?" He then asked the woman standing over them.

"There's children on this flight. Thank you." She moved on. Booth and Brennan shared a stunned look. "Whatever happened to the mile high club?" Booth grumbled, slumping back in his seat.

"We could join it." Brennan smiled back at him seductively. He grinned.

No sex was had on the airplane, but that didn't stop them once they got home. Though they were both severely jet lagged they made love in the shower that night. Something in him had definitely changed for the better; had put him back on the correct path. Confessing all his fears, throwing his secrets away had been exactly what he'd needed. He'd opened himself up to get lost in her.

They slept peacefully in the overnight hours. When Brennan woke in the morning she found she was alone. For just a moment she felt a sliver of fear. Where had Booth gone? Why was he gone? Did he dream? Had she slept through a nightmare? Had he hurt himself? She closed her eyes, forcing herself to be still and listen. Downstairs she could hear the banging of cupboards in the kitchen. She heard the clanging of pots and pans being rifled through. Booth was fine. He was making breakfast. She exhaled a sigh of relief. Though she realized then that like Booth's brain damage, the thought pattern she'd gone through when she discovered his absence would always be with her. There would always be an ingrained fear that he was lost, or harmed. Or had hurt himself.

She wrapped herself in a robe before joining her family. Alyssa had been brought over while she'd been sleeping. Booth had propped her up in her high chair. She was jabbering nonsense, excited to see him while he cooked. When she saw Brennan she squealed with happiness. "Mommmeee!"

There was no sweeter sound in the world. Brennan picked her up to give her a cuddle and a kiss. "I missed you," she told her.

"Miss." Alyssa repeated in her child voice. She had no idea what it meant but echoed her parents like a parrot. Brennan was pleased. Already her daughter was showing an intense thirst to learn. "You're up early," she added to Booth. Back down in her high chair she set Alyssa. Next to her she sat down in a chair and played with her hands.

"Yeah. I couldn't sleep anymore. I was making some phone calls." He answered. He poured some dry cereal into a bowl and placed it in front of Alyssa. Happily she dug in, selecting pieces with her small fingers and chewing on them. Before Brennan he sat a plate of waffles. Then he removed various fruit from the refrigerator and began dicing them up.

"Oh?" The meal looked delicious. She dug in.

"Yeah. I called Angela to get Alyssa back. Then I made an appointment with my doctor."

The bite in her mouth suddenly tasted like lead. Her stomach churned. His doctor? Was he assuring himself of his wellness? Or had something happened that had caused him to suspect illness? Her heart skipped beats just thinking it. Him not readily volunteering any information didn't help her dismal thoughts. "Everything okay?" She tried asking innocently.

"Yeah," was all he said. He finished with the fruit and gave both Brennan and Alyssa a bowl. The cereal was forgotten as Alyssa nabbed a strawberry. She bit in, then made a face and spit it out.

"Hey," Booth laughed. "It's good." He chuckled harder when she opened her mouth at him and dropped her tongue.

Brennan felt frustrated. She wanted more from him but didn't want to push. He'd just started to come out of his hole. She had no idea what would trigger him to go scurrying back into it. "I have an appointment today. I'm having an ultrasound done."

Finally he sat down himself with a plate. "Can I come with?"

"You never have to ask, Booth. This is your child, too." She stabbed at her waffle.

"Just checking." He was oblivious to her change of attitude. Throughout breakfast Alyssa chattered to her parents in words they only half understood. Once he was finished Booth rose from the table. "Leave the dishes, all right, Bones? I'll do 'em. I'll be right back."

"I can do them. It's only fair since you cooked." She eyed him. "Where are you going?"

He was being secretive again. He flicked his wrist in a careless motion of dismissal while he headed from the room. He walked into his little used office and closed the door. There on his desk laid the package from Riley. After thinking about it all night he'd at last decided he was ready to face whatever its contents were. Down into a chair he collapsed. He breathed evenly, trying to settle his strong emotions while he turned the parcel over and over again in his hands. "I can do this." He pep talked himself. Finally he ripped off the seal in a single swift motion. He turned the package upside down. A small velvet jewelry box and a slip of paper cascaded out onto the desk. Booth took his time, studying both from every angle. It took a strong sense of courage before he could force himself to unfold the paper. Inside Riley's messy handwriting was scribbled for him.

_Booth,_

_If you're reading this then I'm probably dead. You're probably angry at me. I know. I don't blame you. I have no one to blame for the predicament I'm in except myself. I just can't leave him. I can't explain to you why. Maybe it's love. Maybe it's fear. Maybe its forces beyond what I can describe to you. All I know is every time I try to walk out that door something stops me. I guess maybe I feel I deserve it. I don't know. All I know is you have done everything in your power to save me. You took me into your home. I owe you so much and I know I will never be able to pay it back to you. So I just want you to know that I love you, and I'm so grateful I've gotten to have you in my life. I'm grateful that bitch didn't destroy you. You're a lot stronger than you realize, Booth. A lot braver than you know. You need to always remember that._

Booth gasped back a few tears. Tightly he shut his eyes. He took a few minutes to pull himself back together before continuing on.

_I left behind something for you. It's called a hope box necklace. The charm looks like a treasure chest. We always talked about second chances, and hope for a better future. This is my hope for you. I know it's kind of girly, so I can understand if you don't want to wear it. Maybe you can give it to Alyssa when she gets old enough. Anyway, this is what I leave for you: hope._

The letter ended there, with Riley leaving another declaration of love before signing her name. Trembling fingers opened up the jewelry box. He removed the delicate silver chain and undid the fastener. He pinched the charm between his two fingers, sliding it off the chain into his palm. From around his neck he removed his own St. Christopher's medal. Together he combined the two before replacing the chain around his neck and tugging it underneath his shirt. "Thank you," he whispered out loud tearfully.

From now on he'd carry her hope.

* * *

"All right, just give me a moment to get everything going and within minutes you'll be able to hear your baby's heartbeat."

Later on that morning Booth and Brennan were in a cold, darkened room in her doctor's office. She was laying up on a table with her swollen stomach exposed. The ultrasound technician had already squirted a jelly on her skin to make maneuvering the imaging wand across her width easier. Booth grasped Brennan's hand tightly. Alyssa played on the floor with a doll at his feet.

The doctor delivered as promised. Booth and Brennan's eyes never strayed away from one another's as they heard their baby's heartbeat for the first time. Only, the sound of it wasn't quite right. Both clearly heard an echo that wasn't supposed to be present. Their happiness changed into fright. "Is there a problem with the monitor?" Brennan asked as Booth was blurting, "what's wrong with our baby?"

"The monitor is fine and so are the babies."

Both of them froze. "Babies?" Booth repeated.

"Congratulations, you're having twins."


	101. Hard To Trust

That night Booth was struck with an awful sense of insomnia that he hadn't experienced in quite some time. For hours he laid awake watching Brennan and Alyssa sleep next to him in peaceful delight. Despite the comfort he felt having the two of them besides him his heart still pounded like a war drum. It had all evening, ever since the day had ended and they'd settled in for the night. It'd begun once the shock had worn off and the truth had at last fully hit him. Twins. Not just one, but two babies. There was so much to do. So much to prepare for. And that was precisely what was keeping him from being able to properly rest.

His body ached with a throbbing intensity. After he tossed and turned for more than a few hours he surrendered. Gingerly he excused himself from bed. Downstairs he turned a light on. Across the couch he extended his body, doing his best to stretch out. There he allowed the anxious thoughts he'd been holding at bay all day to run free. He let out a gasp as his heart kicked into overdrive. Truth be told he couldn't have been happier over the news. Twins meant everything to him. At this point in his life he never would have imagined such a thing could happen. Light had broken through the darkness with all of his children. They represented what Amanda hadn't been able to take away from him. They were joy and love; laughter and sunshine.

But simultaneously he was completely overwhelmed. As far as he was concerned it'd been too long of a period of time since he'd pulled his own weight in his marriage. Brennan had been heaped with too much responsibility. Booth still hadn't been reinstated with the bureau and the way his life was continuing it didn't seem likely he ever would. He knew she didn't mind. With her books she certainly made enough money for the both of them to live off of. But he contributed nothing to his growing family. This bothered him more than he let on.

Then of course there was the obvious. Booth was stronger, but he still hadn't located within himself the person he used to be. He still depended heavily on Brennan to get through his daily life. How was he to take care of four children when he was only just beginning to learn to look after himself again?

He let the panic attack take complete control over him until he was spent. Fitfully he slept on the couch until Alyssa woke him mere hours later. She performed her favorite activity by leaping on him. "Daddee!"

For just a moment it wasn't his daughter, but Amanda kicking him in the ribs. He cried out, jerking straight up on the couch. Alyssa tumbled into his lap and giggled. Her father's slingshot like action was always of great entertainment for her.

Brennan hurried out from the kitchen having heard the noise. She took notice of his state instantly. "Booth? Are you all right? You lack color."

He swallowed and nodded. For Alyssa he reached, pulling her to him and hugging her close. He laid his head down on top of her head and inhaled her fresh scent of baby powder. Her innocent smell slowed his pulse.

"Why were you sleeping down here?" Brennan was sensing that something was troubling him. He hadn't been himself since they'd left her appointment.

"I couldn't sleep. I didn't want to wake you. What time is it?"

"A little after nine."

He had his own doctor's appointment at ten; one he would be running late for if he didn't begin to get ready. Up from the couch he ambled, carrying Alyssa with him. "Has she eaten?"

"Yes, we've both had breakfast. Booth-"

He passed his toddler onto her. Then he hurried upstairs. After a five minute shower he dried and dressed. Brennan had turned on a video for Alyssa. She was standing by the front door when he emerged from their bedroom. Her arms were crossed, and she was frowning deeply. "Booth, what's going on?"

"I have an appointment." He picked up his keys. "I won't be long."

"Where are you going?"

He stepped out around her. She firmly gripped his hand to stop him from continuing forward. "You're going to the doctor. And you're shutting me out. You're being secretive again. Whatever it is, I can handle it. Please." She lowered her voice. "Talk to me." Her imagination was left to predict the worst.

His gaze fell down onto their hands. Nothing changed in his reserved expression. "I won't be long," he reiterated.

No! He wasn't doing this again! "Booth!"

Their hands untangled. He was gone before she could breathe another word in protest. She resisted the urge to follow him. She knew him well enough to know he wouldn't budge. She'd have to wait until he volunteered his hidden information. But that didn't stop her from being angry.

She plopped down on the couch in the living room. Alyssa gave her mother a curious look. To her daughter she seethed, "I love your father. But sometimes he _really _makes me angry!"

* * *

A half an hour later Booth was pacing the length of Dr. York's office. He'd arrived a few minutes late for his appointment. Into a room he'd been taken right away where basic statistical checks had been run. Then he'd been ordered to strip down into a hospital gown. He'd done as asked. With every passing minute his apprehension worsened. By the time Dr. York stepped in he was trembling. "Mr. Booth. You're early this month for your check in." He saw his agitation. "But there's a reason for that, isn't there?"

Booth breathed heavily. He coerced himself into sitting down. He uttered the truth he hadn't been able to tell Brennan. His worst fear had come true. "I found a lump on my shoulder." While he'd been showering he'd come across it. A puffy raised bump roughly the size of a quarter had begun to hurt the moment he'd touched it.

Dr. York's eyebrows lifted into his hairline. He opened Booth's file and read the content. "Your blood pressure is sky high. Your pulse is much too fast as well."

"Yeah. Because I found a lump." Booth hissed back through grit teeth. "Maybe it's nothing. Maybe it's a scar or a bug bite. I can't see it. But I need to know what it is."

The doctor stood behind him. He opened up the gown and set his hands on Booth's bare skin. Booth tried not to wince at the contact, and felt a rush of resentment. He kept himself calm while Dr. York's fingers massaged and prodded the area. The pain grew worse with the interaction. "Well?" He snapped impatiently after too much time had passed.

"Pending on you getting some updated scans, I think I'd like to do a biopsy."

Booth knew well enough by now that this was far from a good sign. "Biopsy it? Can't you just remove it? It's a tumor, right? I'm getting sick?" He hopped off the table. His thoughts were running rampant at too fast of a pace. He could hardly keep up with himself.

"Mr. Booth, I know what you're thinking. It's too early to jump to conclusions."

"Too early? I have a history of cancer!" His temper had fired. Energy jolted through his veins. "Look, doc, my wife is having twins."

"Oh. Congratulations." Dr. York smiled.

"Yeah. I gotta be around to see them grow up. I want this thing out of me!"

"Okay. I must warn you though, it'll be a full operation. Regular procedure."

"I don't care. Do whatever needs to be done. And you can tell then if its cancerous, right?" He was shuddering once again. He was lit like a firework.

"Yes, we can. Again I want to emphasize, don't think the worst."

Yet that was all Booth could focus on. His mind went numb. Somehow he floated from the doctor's office to his car. The protective cover didn't lift until he was at home in his driveway, wondering how he'd gotten there. He couldn't recall a single piece of the journey. Dejectedly he took himself inside.

A packed bag sat by the front door. Booth's shoulders tensed at the sight of it. What was going on? "Bones?" He took no more than a few steps to find her bundling Alyssa up in a coat in the living room. She herself was already wearing a jacket. Her eyes spit cold ice at him. Booth was stunned in his tracks. "What's going on?" He breathed.

"You don't trust me." She declared darkly.

"What? That's not true. You know I do."

She straightened. "You can't even tell me where you're going. You won't. I'm not going through this again, Booth."

He hadn't wanted to inform her of anything until he had something to tell her. The conversation they'd had on the beach led him to believe she was just as scared of his illness reappearing as he was. Even now, armed with a slight tidbit of information, he wasn't looking to share until the images of his shoulder had been done. Regardless of the outcome surgery seemed inevitable. "Bones, it's not like that. It's not about trust. I trust you." He tried to get her to look at him again. "I love you."

She finished with Alyssa's coat. Into her arms she lifted her child. Nothing was stopping her from walking out the front door. "You need some time to think. And so do I."

He felt the cold fear of another anxiety attack. "Are you-" He could barely speak. "_Leaving _leaving?"

She paused. Her expression was forlorn. "No, Booth. I couldn't do that to you. To us. I have no desire to. I just need some time on my own." She pulled her bag up over her shoulder. "I'll be back in the morning."

"Where are you going?"

"I have my secrets too." She muttered tightly.

He had no choice but to stand aside. Still a gentleman in such a time of sadness, he held the door open for her. Tears were in both of their eyes as she maneuvered through it. "I'll see you in the morning." She restated.

"Sure," he murmured faintly. She planted a kiss on his cheek. Then she took Alyssa out to her car. After she fastened the child into her seat she too, got in. Booth waited until she was out of the driveway and down the street before shutting the door. He slumped onto the couch. His head fell into his hands. _I have to tell her everything. When she comes back in the morning, I have to just do it. _He lifted his head back up to face the world. "I have to tell her."


	102. Truth & Understanding

**Author's Note:** I have decided that I'm just going to keep going with this story. It's a "series" sort of, but I'm keeping it all under this same name. I have enjoyed writing this and I know many of you have enjoyed reading it, so I don't really want to stop anytime soon. Thanks to you all for reading and reviewing. This story had taken on a life of it's own and I have all of you to thank for that.

* * *

Brennan's destination of choice was actually Angela's apartment. She'd called her long before she'd left the house to warn her of her actions. "Booth's keeping information from me again."

"Oh, sweetie."

"I need some time apart. May Alyssa and I come over?"

Angela had chuckled. "You never need to _ask_. Just come whenever."

Her best friend was awaiting her arrival when Brennan was heading up the walk. Her bag was slung over her shoulder. Alyssa was clutched tightly to her chest. The baby may have been young but she understood sadness. Since they'd left their home she hadn't spoken a word. She lifted her head now enough to ask her mother, "Daddee?"

Brennan grimaced. "We'll see him tomorrow."

Alyssa laid her head back down against Brennan's chest. Her eyes closed tight. Her body grew heavier in Brennan's grasp. It was as though she was suddenly lugging a sack of potatoes. She was surprised she made it to the door without dropping her overnight pack or the child. Angela held the door open for her. "You're loaded."

"Traveling with a baby is difficult." Brennan acknowledged. She laid Alyssa out on a sofa in the living room. The bag slipped off her shoulder and collided onto the carpet next to her. She straightened with tears in her eyes. Before she could utter a single word Angela steered her away. "Alyssa's falling asleep. Why don't we relax in the kitchen and talk for a few minutes, all right? We'll be able to hear her."

Minutes later they were seated with drinks (a martini for Angela and a tall, cold glass of ice water for Brennan) in hand. "His behavior began yesterday after my doctor's appointment. After we found out about the twins-"

"TWINS?" Angela squealed, interrupting Brennan. She offered her congrats and hugged her firmly before sitting back down. Brennan merely nodded, not moved by the outpouring of happiness. "He just became very quiet. Almost sullen."

"You think its over the twins?"

"No. He was happy to learn of them." She was positive he was ecstatic about the news. Whatever his issue, it didn't lie with her pregnancy. "Then last night he didn't sleep with me. He put himself downstairs on the couch. This morning he told me he had an appointment he had to leave for. I could hardly get out of him that he was going to see a doctor, and flat out refused to tell me what for." She took a sip of water to attempt to still her wavering emotions. "I know it likely wasn't right, but I just needed to leave for a while. I needed to be able to gather control of my emotions and think clearly." Truth be told, in the darkest pit of her heart she wanted to punish him. She didn't deserve his insolence.

"You don't have to justify that, Brennan. Everyone needs a break sometimes." She scrutinized her best friend. "You're not leaving him, are you?"

Her chest ached with pain at the mere thought of it. "No. Never. I love him." She stared down intently at the ice cubes floating in her drink. "But I'm scared, Ange. If he's hiding doctor's appointments from me then he must suspect its something serious."

"Like that he's sick again?"

With much sorrow she forced herself to nod. "I don't know what I'll do if he is."

"You'll love him through it, like you always have. You'll give him your undying support."

A tear fell. Hastily she swatted it away. "I just wish he'd understand that I want to be included in this part of his life. No matter how hard I try he still reverts to the thought that he's alone, and therefore has to handle his affairs on his own."

Angela was silent for a moment. "Sweetie, maybe that's not it at all. You said he has lasting brain damage, right? Maybe this is just how the new him deals with things. He has to manage it on his own before he's able to let anyone else in. You're rational, and maybe he's realized that he needs all the facts before he can present them to you. Don't get me wrong," she added quickly when she caught Brennan's bitter stare. "I'm on your side. Team Brennan all the way." She did a fist pump. "I just think maybe it's not his fault."

From the other room they could hear Alyssa's small voice. "Daddee?"

"She misses him." Angela mused. "She's a daddy's girl, huh?"

"Yes. The two of them are close." It crushed her to hear her child calling out for him. "He loves her very much. Perhaps I shouldn't have left. Maybe I should go back."

Angela reached across the table to cover the back of Brennan's hand with her own. "Just stay here tonight. Let the situation cool down. Give yourselves some time to breathe apart. It doesn't mean you're a failure just because you stepped out for a night."

Brennan nodded, trying to find solace in her words. She certainly felt like a failure.

* * *

All that night her thoughts and dreams were consumed by him. In the morning she awoke feeling desolate. One way or another they needed to work this situation out. He needed to be open and honest with her. She needed to be more understanding of him. For him.

When she returned home the house was still, and much warmer than it should have been. Stepping inside was like entering a firewall of heat. Why was it so hot? She set Alyssa down on the landing just inside the front door. "Booth?" She called while removing both of their coats. She'd no more said his name before she heard a clatter in the kitchen. For just a moment she left her child to investigate.

She could see as she drew near that Booth was trying to make himself a bowl of cereal. He stooped over the counter, shaking quite terribly. From head to toe he was bundled up in sweatpants and a sweatshirt, with a jacket over that. His effort at trying to add milk into his bowl was unfruitful. The liquid splashed all over the counter more than it made it into the bowl due to his trembling hands. Brennan did not like what she was seeing. "Booth?"

His voice shook as bad as his body. "Hhhii, B-bbones. Wweelccoomee hhoommee." Just then the bottle of milk slipped completely from his grasp. It crashed downwards, dumping white liquid from the near full plastic bottle all over the linoleum floor. Under his breath he swore. Brennan noticed for the first time that he was holding onto the counter to keep himself upright.

"It's all right. Leave it." She dodged the mess to reach him. "Come with me." Pleased she was when he allowed her to guide him away from the kitchen. Together they limped into the living room where she assisted him down onto the couch. "What happened to you? Did you do something to yourself? Or take something?" Given his depression she wondered if walking out on him had flung him over the edge. These weren't signs she recognized but with Booth that meant little.

"Nnnoo." His teeth chattered. "I wwoookkkeee up lliikkeee thhiiss."

So he was becoming ill. She pressed a hand against his forehead. It wasn't shocking but there was some warmth to his skin.

"I nneeeeeedd ttoo ttaakkee mmyy mmeeddiiccaattiioonn. Hhaavvee ttoo eeaatt." He reminded her.

"You will. But right now you need to relax." Briefly she left to both take care of Alyssa and retrieve some aspirin for Booth to fight his fever. She had to at least attempt to do something for him. Alyssa she took upstairs to her room. She laid her down in her crib. All night the baby had been restless, and Brennan had felt responsible. Being in an unfamiliar environment had put Alyssa ill at ease. In addition Brennan knew how much she missed Booth. A nap in her own bed would do her some good.

Back downstairs Brennan administered Booth the medication. She removed his jacket and instead wrapped a blanket around him. Behind his head she tucked a pillow.

For the remainder of the morning she stayed by his side. His thoughts seemed to run at a rapid pace and he wasn't shy about speaking them out loud. "You came back."

"What? This morning? Of course I came back. I told you I would. Booth," she laid a hand on his chest and tried to ignore how hard his heart was beating. "I love you. I would never leave you permanently."

His eyes closed. "Oh. I'd leave me, if I were you."

She sighed his name.

"I got a lump, Bones." He confirmed her absolute nightmare. She was rendered unable to speak, and had to silently indicate for him to go on. "It's on my shoulder. Dr. York's sent me back to Dr. Merck. He's gonna do surgery and remove it. That's who I went to see. And that's what I couldn't tell you. I just wasn't ready for you to find out."

"Is it…" She wasn't sure she could finish her thought. Fortunately he predicted her question. "They won't know till its out of me. I wouldn't let the test. I just want it gone. After you left yesterday I went back to the hospital. Dr. Merck ordered some scans of the area."

"When's the surgery?"

"Week from tomorrow." Another cold spell surged through him. He shivered much harder than before. Finally it died down and once again he was quiet. He exhaled a harsh breath in relief.

Brennan continued her line of inquiry. "What does Dr. York say?"

"That if it comes down to it, I fought it before, and I'll fight it again."

Those were words she needed to hear. She smiled weakly. "Smart man."

From her bedroom upstairs Alyssa again cried loudly for her father. Booth craned his head. Brennan discerned him start to panic. He tried to lift himself up to tend to her. Brennan prevented him from doing so. "Rest, Booth."

"But she needs me. She wants me."

"You're sick, and I don't want her to get sick."

Those words stole the fight right out of him. He realized she was right. Back against his pillow he fell. "You shouldn't be near me, either." He whispered. "Not when you're carrying twins. You shouldn't risk it. I should leave." Again he was insistent upon sitting himself up.

"Where would you go? Booth, please just relax. I'll be fine." She affectionately held his hand. "And so will you."

* * *

Brennan was sure the week that followed was the longest of their lives. Based on the laws of time she rationally knew this wasn't possible. But as the days grew closer to Booth's surgery the pain in her heart and stomach from anxiousness increased. Towards the end her only wish was to just get it over with. Muddling through was not healthy for either one of them, judging by the way they'd taken to avoiding one another. There were no negative emotions between them. It wasn't as though they had fought or bickered. There was more of an uncomfortable tension, as though they just no longer knew what to say to one another.

Booth bounced back from his tangle with the flu quicker than she would have expected. Once he was able to be mobile again he spent a good portion of his time with their daughter. Almost daily he was carting her to a local park to play with her on the playground. In the evenings he read to her. She thrived from the interaction. Alyssa had always been a happy baby. But having the close relationship with her father sent her over the moon. Brennan was joyful as well.

The night before the operation Brennan laid awake, restless. He slept on like a baby kitten besides her. She watched him, feeling her worry increase tenfold. It didn't help that the twins had taken to kicking one another in her stomach. An all out battle was being raged between the two of them. No matter how she rubbed her stomach they wouldn't settle down.

She kept an eye on Booth while he slept. He was shirtless, which was unusual. Since he'd updated her on his condition he hadn't allowed her to see him naked. Back she thought to his beach confession in Hawaii. Had he known then? Was that just his subtle way of trying to prepare her? No. She didn't think so. All over his body she'd touched him and she'd felt nothing. This lump had developed in the time that had passed since they'd gotten home.

Right then she took advantage of him. He was sleeping up on his side. Cautiously she tugged her body closer to him, being careful not to pressure his stomach with her baby bump. Delicately she ran a hand over the skin of his shoulder. Sure enough, she could feel the disfiguration rising from the protruding bone. Over his skin she glided her hands back to his chest. Her fingertips swept over him, lightly exploring every inch of him. Her touch froze in the middle of his torso. Just under the skin she could feel a hard knob beginning to grow. Tears formed in her eyes. She hugged him so tightly it was surprising he didn't stir.

_This doesn't mean anything. There are a multitude of different reasons for it, and not necessarily bad ones. _She inhaled deeply. _We'll get through it, whatever it is. We always do._


	103. Don't Let Go

"Well it seems like things are only getting better

Well it seems like we can never catch a break

Just keep a hold on me - Don't let go

If you float away, if you float away

Waiting too long for our ship to come

Don't you float away"

~ The Starting Line

* * *

The alarm went off entirely too early for the couple. Booth was the first to rise and turn it off. Brennan's sleep had been broken into intervals. After finding the new tumor she'd laid awake until exhaustion had finally taken her under its wing. But it wasn't long before various gruesome nightmares stole her back into the real world. She turned her head now to glance at the time. Five minutes after five. They were due at the hospital at six. Booth's surgery was the first one scheduled at seven.

He kissed her cheek before leaving the bedroom. She remained motionless while she listened to the multiple noises he made as he went about his morning routine. The sound of the shower running. The soft patter of his feet as he woke Alyssa. Angela was coming for her around five thirty to baby sit overnight. Booth planned on giving her breakfast before she left.

She heard Booth croon to her. Alyssa responded with a jubilant giggle in her voice. The floor creaked as the two headed downstairs. Brennan decided then she had better drag her worn out body from the bed. The twins kicked all while she showered. She came downstairs with a somber expression. Booth saw it clearly. He accepted her into his arms. "It'll be all right," he promised in a whisper, kissing her forehead.

She said nothing in response. Instead her hands prodded all along him until she located the area she'd found overnight. Gently she poked him there. He recoiled in surprise. "What the-" he glanced at Alyssa who was munching on baby cereal before continuing. "What was that, Bones? What did you do that for?"

She placed her hand in the same spot, this time applying pressure by squeezing it. Booth took her lead. He touched it himself. His eyes instantly shot up to hers in shock. This had taken him by surprise. Brennan knew then for sure he hadn't been hiding from her. He'd been unaware. "It'll be all right." He repeated firmly.

Angela rang the doorbell not too much later. She sensed the tension from the moment she occupied the same room as the both of them. "Okay. What's going on?" She threw out a hip and placed a hand on it. "What happened with the two of you?"

Booth glanced to Brennan. She simply shook her head and left the room. He bent down on one knee and wrapped Alyssa in her jacket. "I already fed her. She eats at-"

"I _know. _Booth. What happened?" She stressed her desire for an answer.

"She's not upset with me, exactly." He clarified. "She's upset with the situation."

Angela nodded. She could understand. "Are you nervous?" She wondered as she took Alyssa from him.

He shrugged, not giving her any sort of response. It was time for her to stop pressing him. He wouldn't tolerate much more. She kissed him on the cheek. "Good luck. Have Brennan call me when you're out of surgery."

Booth agreed. He kissed his daughter goodbye. "Daddy will see you tomorrow, okay?"

As soon as they left Booth went in search of his wife. She had retreated back to the safety of the kitchen. She lingered by the sink, her eyes staring blankly out the window. He stood behind her, daring to snake his arms around her waist. His palms flattened against her stomach. "We should get going," he undertoned to the back of her neck.

"Right." She spoke softly.

"It'll be all right. Bones, it will. If it takes me saying it a million times to convince you, then I will. I'll do whatever it takes."

She spun around. He took the opportunity to kiss her. Her fingers touched his face. She wanted badly to believe in his words. But she knew what they were up against. Booth needed a miracle from a God that so far had been merciless towards him. She couldn't see that changing. Tautly she pressed herself against him, feeling his heart beat back against hers. _Please, _she sniffed tears while mentally begging invisible forces she didn't believe in. _Just keep him safe._

* * *

The scene at the hospital could best be described as controlled chaos. Booth and Brennan were separated as he was taken immediately for preparations. By the time she was allowed into his temporary room he was dressed in a hospital gown and shivering underneath a blanket. Nurses and orderlies were wiring him to different monitors and machines. He wasn't entirely comfortable with all the attention, and it was evident on his face. As brave as he was trying to be for her she knew his real feelings. He was just as scared as she was.

They'd no more left before Dr. Merck stepped in. "Hi, Booth. Don't take it personal but I'm sorry I have to see you again."

"Me too." Booth murmured miserably.

"I saw your scans but I wanted to take a look at what I'm dealing with for myself." Dr. Merck had Booth lean forward so he could open his gown and study his shoulder. "Okay. That's pretty simple."

"He's got another one on his stomach." Brennan added. Booth's angered stare was dark enough to kill. He hadn't wanted to address that issue just yet. Dr. Merck requested to see the area. Booth pulled his gown away from his chest and laid back. The doctor massaged the spot he'd been shown. Booth winced, but otherwise kept to himself. It was difficult to discern whether the reaction was from pain or from another human's touch. Either was possible.

"That one's a little more complicated. I'll check the surgery schedule and see if we can't push your operation back long enough to take some scans of your chest and stomach."

"Wonderful." Booth muttered sarcastically. Dr. Merck left. Brennan chased him into the hall. "Wait!"

Puzzled, the doctor waited for her to catch up. Brennan captured his attention. "If something happens while he's in surgery," she swallowed. "I want you to do anything necessary to save him. You know as well as I do what a tough life he's had over the past few years. We can't give up on him."

"I see." Dr. Merck was eyeing her stomach. "I'll do my best."

"Oh, and don't forget, he has a bad reaction to anesthesia-"

"Dr. Brennan, we know all about it. Everything is in his chart. He'll be taken care of. There's no need to worry. Everyone knows their job."

Not worry? She might as well not breathe. She mumbled gratitude before walking away. There was a clear change in Booth's demeanor when she returned to his side. He was allowing his unhappiness over what he perceived as being "ratted out" be known. "I'm sorry, Booth. But the sooner we address this, the better. We don't need your condition worsening because we weren't proactive."

He sighed.

Transportation arrived and took him away. When they returned him he'd already been sedated. His fear of being enclosed in machines hadn't yet and probably never would ease. He looked to Brennan with his eyes glazed. Only barely was he able to hold them open.

She held onto his hand. "I'll see you soon," she promised, running her fingers through his hair. He managed to nod back at her. His eyelids fluttered. By the time a team arrived to transport him to surgery he was sound asleep. She alone went to the all too familiar waiting room to pass the time. "Come on, Booth." She whispered to the clock mounted overhead. "Don't let me down."

* * *

Hours ticked by. Brennan had numbed herself to the pain and worry, and therefore was pleasantly stunned when Dr. Merck emerged from the OR in what seemed like a short period of time. She rose to her feet as he drew near. He offered her a rare smile. "The surgery was a success. He came through just fine. I was able to remove both tumors. He's in recovery now. He'll be brought back to his room soon and after a few hours as long as he's doing well, he'll be discharged."

The news came as a welcome relief. "How long until we have results of the biopsy?"

"Likely a few days. I'll put in a rush request. Sometimes that makes a difference."

Brennan offered him her hand. "Thank you, Dr. Merck. I trust his care to you." It was change compared to the last time they'd seen one another. They'd fought civilly over Booth's care.

"Well, no offense, but I hope this is the last time we all see each other."

She took it to mean he hoped the worst hadn't occurred; that Booth's cancer hadn't returned. "No offense taken. I hope for it, too."

* * *

Despite having vomited a few times Booth was released after a few hours. He required assistance getting to Brennan's car, and once again when they arrived home. It took all his energy just to get upstairs into their bedroom. Brennan helped him lay down in bed. She removed his clothes, leaving him in just a pair of boxers and a shirt. Then she pulled the bedspread up over him. He'd already fallen fast asleep. For a while she stayed posted at his side. When she was able to determine that leaving him be wouldn't danger his health, she took herself back downstairs into the living room. She dialed Angela to keep her current on Booth's status.

"So when do you find out the results?"

"In a few days." She wasn't sure which wait was the worse, the one for his surgery or this one; waiting on a ticking clock to find out if he was ill.

"All right. Well, take care of him, sweetie. Love him. Alyssa's doing fine here. She's taking a nap right now."

For the first time all day Brennan smiled genuinely, thinking of her daughter. "If you could bring her over first thing in the morning-"

"I'll be there. She probably won't be able to stand me much longer than that."

"Ange, she likes you."

"Maybe. But it's mommy and daddy she keeps asking for."

Brennan hung up feeling reassured. She tried to tidy up the house but just didn't feel right being without Booth. So she went back to the bedroom. Booth was half awake when she sat down on the edge of the bed next to him. He appeared purely miserable, staring up at her with half closed eyes. Her heart ached for him. She held his hand. "Hi."

"Lets run away." His voice was scratchy. "Lets just forget this life and leave."

She smirked. "And where would we go, Booth?"

"I don't know. Aruba. I could officially quit the FBI. You could permanently quit the Jeffersonian." Booth's leave of absence had been extended. Brennan had declared herself unfit to work until Booth was better. It wasn't entirely a lie. If she was away from him when problems were likely to arise her thoughts would be on him and not on work. Mistakes would be made. She wouldn't chance it.

"What would we do in Aruba? We'd have to make a living somehow."

"You could write your books. I could investigate… coconut thieves."

Brennan giggled. "You're still intoxicated from the anesthesia, aren't you?"

"A little bit." He shut his eyes. "I could build us a hut on the beach. We could teach Alyssa to swim in the waves."

Though it was delirium it was still a romantic notion. Her mind formed a fantasy of the two of them laying in the warm sand underneath a blanket of twinkling stars. Alyssa was nestled in between them. The scene was reminiscent of Hawaii.

Booth yawned. He was falling back asleep. Brennan crawled up into bed besides him. She laid her head down on the shoulder opposite of his injury. She was careful to avoid his stomach wound as she held on to his chest. "Sleep," she whispered into his ear, kissing it.

He didn't take much convincing. His breaths softened. Brennan continued her dream. Perhaps someday they could make it a reality.


	104. Looking Forward To The Future

"_You're just determined not to give, aren't you?"_

_Booth grit his teeth. He wouldn't say a word. He refused to give her the satisfaction of hearing his tortured voice. He used the fading strength he had to pull against the restraints that bound him. If the last week had been any indication then something terrible was about to happen to him. Days had passed since he'd last slept. She'd injected a liquid through his veins that kept him awake. His heart beat surged at the pace of a cheetah chasing after a gazelle. His stomach growled painfully. By now he was so thirsty during the times he'd been alone he'd torn his darkened room apart searching for any kind of water source. She was trying to break him. His headstrong personality was all that was keeping him from submitting._

_Ever since he'd been attacked and abducted from his apartment he'd been undergoing this torture. Tightly he shut his eyes and tried to conjure a calming image. Brennan's face was the first that came to mind. _Bones, _he mentally groaned._

"_That's fine. Believe me." She stooped over him. He tried to pull away as he felt her tie off his arm with a rubber band. Unconsciously he began to tremble as she roughly pushed a needle into his arm. _What is this? Is she giving me heroin? Is she taking blood from me? _He couldn't bring himself to investigate further. She abandoned him almost as quickly as she'd set in on him. Moments passed and he could barely hold his eyes open. His heart slowed. _

_A flicker of fire from a lighter danced in the darkness. Having not seen light in such a long period of time his eyes had trouble adjusting. When they did, he saw she was heating up a wire coat hanger that had been pulled apart into a line. _

"_I have other ways of making you scream," she promised him with wicked glee in her voice. Booth shuddered._

Booth's scream was so forceful that Brennan nearly toppled out of bed. Abruptly she sat up in a disturbed alarm. Booth was not well, as if she couldn't tell by the scream. He was laying flat out on the mattress. His pillows had fallen down onto the floor. His body trembled as he panted much too hard and way too fast.

Before Brennan could comfort him she heard Alyssa begin to cry. No doubt she'd been roused and frightened by her father's panic. Brennan hated leaving Booth but knew her daughter needed her. She swept her hand over his back a few times before retreating from the bedroom. After she soothed Alyssa back to sleep she returned to her husband.

Booth still hadn't retrieved his pillows. His face was pressed down into their sheets. His arms were bent in front of him, concealing his features. His hands were balled into clenched fists. He was no longer gasping quite as fiercely. But at the same time he hadn't pulled himself back together.

Hesitantly she laid a palm down on his back. "Booth, it's all right." She spoke to him as if he were a child. "You're safe. You're home with me and Alyssa. There's nothing to be afraid of." Except, _she _was afraid. It'd been a long time since he'd had one of these episodes. Nightly he suffered from bad dreams. This she knew. But certainly not anything that evoked such a yell out of him, or brought out this damaged reaction.

His back stiffened. She switched on a lamp so she could study him better. The shirt he was wearing was soaked with sweat. He was arching his stomach, leading her to believe he was about to have a seizure. In his post surgery condition she feared what this would do to him. The drive for protection drove her to pull him into her arms. All while she held onto him she waited for his body to explode into fits. To her pleased surprise it didn't. The tension left his muscles and he slumped.

"Why didn't she just kill me?" He whispered to her as he started to cry. That statement answered any questions she'd had regarding the topic of his nightmare. "I don't want to live like this, Bones."

She didn't respond, nor did she allow herself to get upset anymore over his ramblings. She'd come to learn through his repeated history that he didn't mean any of it. It was just his mind's way of dealing with the emotions. Often times when they woke in the morning he couldn't even remember what he'd said.

So she continued to cradle him until the tears stopped and he was still. His head rolled onto her stomach. His ear pressed down against the twins. She smiled, stroking a hand through his hair. "Are you all right now?"

"Getting there." He breathed. "I don't know how I survived, Bones."

Truth be told, some days she didn't either. "When she first abducted me, before she was sedating me she was giving me a drug that kept me awake for days. I felt like I was having a heart attack."

"Sounds like synthetic adrenaline." She exhaled, picturing scenarios she didn't want to see. "She's gone, Booth. You have to remember that."

"Yeah. I know." He jerked his head away as one of the twins kicked him. A bright smile finally reached his face. His hand replaced where his ear had been on her stomach.

"We have to start thinking of names for them soon." She reminded him.

"I already have one in mind." He looked sheepish. "I don't think you'll like it, though."

"Booth," she chuckled. "We don't even know the sexes yet."

"It's a name that could go either way." He tried to read her emotion. "If you'd let me Bones, I'd like to name of them Riley." Knowing she'd had mixed emotions about his friend he didn't intend on pushing the issue. If she said no then he'd accept it without another word.

Brennan pursed her lips in thought. "I would be all right with that."

"Really? Because I know you didn't really like her-"

"I never said I disliked her. I pitied her. I worried about her." She rubbed her hands over his arm muscles. "And through her I worried about you. But I understand you two had a kinship. You were close to her, and I believe she helped you in some ways. So I'm fine with it."

"Thanks, Bones." He sat up on his knees. In he leaned close where he kissed her. "Thanks for never giving up on me," he added in a whisper. "I know being with me hasn't exactly been easy."

"Life hasn't been easy for you." She retorted. "I'll always be with you, Booth. You're never going to be alone again." She kissed him as though somehow it would seal her promise.

Only, at night in the privacy of their bedroom a kiss was never just a kiss with the couple. Booth worked his lips down her neck. His touch paired in with his warm breath on her skin sent her pregnancy hormones in a fury. She was about to take them further when she stopped herself. What was she thinking? Booth had _just _had surgery. "Stop," she ordered in a breathless voice when he reached for the hem of her nightgown. He recoiled in surprise. "What? Why?"

"Booth, you had surgery. I realize you feel well but you're healing. I don't want to cause any damage to the incision sites."

"Well," he rolled onto his back and brought her along for the ride, pulling her on top of him. "I guess we'll just have to go slow."

She grinned. No more convincing was needed.

* * *

In the days that passed the potential of the biopsy results were not discussed. They were the elephant in the room, obvious and uncomfortable but not to be spoken about. However, every time Booth's phone rang the couple froze in horrific anticipation. Every hour brought them closer to the call that was destined to change their lives. Good or bad, nothing would be the same.

Booth took it upon himself to begin designing the new nursery. The project rejuvenated something within him that had gotten lost in the fear over his health problems. He painted the walls dazzling shades of light green and yellow. He and Brennan purchased new cribs, and he spent an entire day alone constructing them. Underneath each one he placed a rug that matched the colors of their room. Working with his hands enabled him the feeling of being able to do something for his family. At last he was able to give back something. The burden wasn't purely on Brennan's shoulders.

"Wow." Brennan murmured one day as she walked in carrying Alyssa. She set the child down on the plastic tarp Booth had laid out to catch drips. "Booth, it's stunning in here."

"Well, I'm not done yet." He'd been sitting Indian style on the floor assembling one of the mobiles they'd gotten. He rose up onto his feet. "I thought I might put a border around the walls. I'm not sure if I want a wallpaper or another color. Is purple neutral? Because I could try that. I think it'd work."

She wrapped her arms around his waist. Her protruding stomach bumped into his back. "I think it's beautiful, and purple would be just fine."

He turned around to smile at her. She kissed him. Over time their love for one another just seemed to grow more and more. They were each other's support; their touchstone; their ultimate source of love.

"I thought tomorrow we could go look at bedding. I want everything in this room to match. I want a white dresser for them, because I'm going to do a custom paint job on it." The more he jabbered on about his plans the more excitement she saw in him. It was contagious. "Too bad we couldn't find a babysitter for Alyssa tonight," she whispered seductively into his ear.

"Why?" He caught her deadened stare. "Oh. Right. Well, why couldn't we? We haven't had a date night in a long time."

She pulled back to stare at him. "What would we do?"

"I got some ideas."

Her hands rested on his chest. "Nothing too strenuous," knowing him, now that she'd suggested it, sex would be all that was on his mind. But the thought reminded her. Gently she pried his shirt up over his abdomen and stomach to his collarbone. Daily they were changing the dressing, but she still liked to examine it throughout the day. She peeled the tape away from his skin. Underneath the gauze the wound was knitting back together neatly. He'd have a scar, but nothing too obvious compared to the rest of him. "Max could probably come watch her."

"Overnight?"

She cocked her head to the side. "Booth."

"Come on." He bumped his forehead against hers. "Trust me."

She was putty in his hands. "I'll go call him."


	105. Reassurance

Lyrics used are "All Through The Night" by Cyndi Lauper! References to "The Wannabe In The Weeds."

* * *

"_Pack an overnight bag."_

Brennan stood over a half packed duffel bag sitting open on top of her bed. Booth had been mysterious ever since they'd come up with their decision to spend the night together alone. He'd disappeared into the shower to clean himself up before she could press him for more information. What exactly was he expecting her to bring? Sexy lingerie? During her pregnancy with Alyssa she'd had luck finding form fitting clothes, and nighties that accentuated her growing figure. Following the birth she'd kept most of those clothes. But the twins were taking up much more room at a faster rate.

"I need to go shopping," she half muttered to herself.

"We can do that." Booth startled her. He walked in, his hair still wet and a towel wrapped around his waist. Brennan's eyes drifted south. She blushed before they snapped back up to his own gaze. His knowing smirk said he'd already caught her. Red handed and guilty. Naturally after they'd been married for years and been sexually active before that she really had no reason for her embarrassment. But after all this time she couldn't keep herself from admiring his body, particularly the way he'd built it back up.

"Or we can do something else." His Cheshire cat grin caused her to laugh. "What should I bring overnight?"

He shrugged. "Sleep stuff. Basic amenities for the morning." He started to slip past her to retrieve clothes when she stopped him. Again she pulled the tape away from his stomach to check the incision. Then he patiently waited while she did the same with the one on his shoulder. "Bones," he spoke softly. "You don't need to keep doing that."

"I-I know." But she did. She needed to reassure herself.

"We're not talking about any of that tonight, okay? It's going to be just us."

"We haven't been talking about it."

"Then lets not start tonight." He kissed her cheek. Moving on he dug through the drawers of their dresser. She silently observed him. Maybe there was no use in talking about it. Nothing would settle the queasiness in her stomach until he was given a clean bill of health. Her inhibitions wouldn't keep herself from picking up his phone to check for any missed calls. He narrowed his eyes. She set it back down feeling foolish.

Truly, they both needed a night to forget.

* * *

Which was precisely what they got. Max showed up at six ready to baby sit his granddaughter. While Brennan was upstairs her father patted Booth on his good shoulder. "I know I never told you this, but I'm glad you survived your ordeal years ago. She was torn up without you. I'd never seen her so upset or so lost."

Politely Booth nodded. "Thanks, Max."

"Ready." Brennan announced coming down the stairs. She was flawless; a vision of beauty in simply blue jeans and a tee shirt. Her hair was pulled back up into a high ponytail. Booth was more than impressed. "Okay. Lets get going."

"You two have fun." Max bounced Alyssa in his arms. "We'll just stay here and relax. Maybe we'll have a rousing game of blocks."

Booth kissed his daughter. "Bye, Lissie."

"Bye daddee." She gave him a grin. She interacted the same way with Brennan, hugging onto her mother's arm until she at last had to let go. Booth ushered Brennan out to the car. He climbed into the driver's seat. Apprehensively she sat down besides him. These days he really didn't drive much. She wasn't sure his skills were what they used to be.

She needn't have worried. The knowledge wasn't lost to him as so many other things were. He drove them straight into the heart of town. The building he pulled up before was one that came across vaguely familiar to her. When she recalled where she'd seen it she gasped. "Booth-"

"What?"

"You really want to come here?" The joint he'd had in mind was a bar, but it wasn't just any bar. It was a karaoke bar; one in which he'd been shot and nearly lost his life in long before their lives had been changed by his abduction.

"Yeah. You're singing."

Quietly, she reminded him, "you almost died here."

"Yeah well," he pulled into a space and stopped. "It's time to right some things. Time to get rid of bad memories."

It was trust that allowed him to pull her inside. They sat down at a table. A singer (not a good one, either) was performing his best rendition of "Wild Thing." "I didn't know you could screw that up," Booth mumbled to himself, ordering scotch for himself and an ice water for Brennan from a waitress. Brennan was pouring over a binder that had been left behind at their table. Inside were all the music selections she had to pick from. "I don't know what to sing." She tended to avoid the last song she'd chosen, "Girls Just Want To Have Fun." But that same competitive person whom Booth had teased a long time ago about her proclamation that she sung better than Cyndi Lauper was alive and well.

"Sing whatever you want."

She did a bit more scanning before her choice was made. She wrote it down on a piece of paper and slipped it to a man playing a piano accompaniment. Sitting back down with Booth, she smiled as he took a hold of her hand. After a few more singers of mixed talent, Brennan's song was called. She ambled up onto the stage and began to sing. As her voice came out clear and strong her eyes connected with Booth's.

_All through the night  
I'll be awake and I'll be with you  
All through the night  
This precious time when time is new  
Oh, all through the night today  
Knowing that we feel the same without saying_

Booth was standing, applauding when she finished with a flush and returned to her seat. He kissed her, keeping his lips close to hers after he'd pulled away. "You're gorgeous. I'm lucky."

She didn't believe in luck, but did believe in his fortune, though felt that that had nothing to do with attracting her as his wife. Any single twist in his story and they could have not been standing there together. She hugged her arms around him.

"You want to stay a while or move on to the next part of our night?" He hushed his question in her ear.

She wouldn't feign her curiosity. "Lets go."

His next destination was a extravagant hotel. But like the bar, it wasn't just any hotel. It was well known around the city as a playground for couples. The rooms were luscious, with king sized beds and private swimming pools located in each room. It was a location she'd always wanted to go to but never had the opportunity. Or the right mate.

Booth observed her face. "Is this okay? Or is it cheesy? We can always go somewhere else."

"It's fine, Booth. It's just… I didn't bring a bikini."

He grinned like a little boy. "I know."

"Oh, you're bad!" She laughed. "C'mon. Lets go in."

There was real relief in his eyes. Brennan realized he'd really been hesitant in making these particular plans. Out of the two of them she'd been the one resistant to sex, only for his safety. _Screw it, _she thought now as he strolled inside to the front desk to check them in. _He's an adult. He'll know his limits. This is our night. I won't stand in the way. _She would readily admit that her thoughts were rooted in selfishness. She wanted him just as badly as he wanted her.

He received the room keys and they entered their palace of paradise. The room itself was beautiful. The carpet was a maroon color that would later feel like velvet on their bare feet. The bed spread was a black background with roses blooming. The lights were turned down low, giving the area a soft, passionate touch. A black curtain divided the room in half. Booth dropped his bag and went to investigate. He peeled back the barrier to reveal a glass wall around a sparking blue swimming hole big enough for the two of them to splash around in. A waterfall cascaded down into the water over rocks that were stacked high to the ceiling. "Wow."

Brennan's mind hadn't gotten past the room. Honestly she couldn't have cared if they swam at all during their visit. What mattered to her was that they'd gotten here, to this point, together. Emotions got the best of her. Tears filled her eyes.

_We have no past we won't reach back  
Keep with me forward all through the night  
And once we start the meter clicks  
And it goes running all through the night  
Until it ends there is no end_

"What is it?" Booth asked, returning to her.

"It's just," she had to avert her eyes from him. "When you first were rescued… I never would have imagined we'd ever get here. I never would have thought that you'd lower your guard enough to trust anyone again. I certainly didn't think that with all the torture and the," she could barely bring herself to say it. Her voice lowered. "Sexual abuse, that you'd be able to let someone touch you. In the beginning I don't know if anyone thought you'd really ever recover. But you did. And you chose to share all these things with me. You trusted me with everything you had left. And I just," the tears fell faster.

"Bones." He held her. "While she had me all I was thinking about was you and Parker. When I escaped I was trying to get home to you."

"We have a life together." She wept.

"I know," he chuckled, kissing her tears away. "I wouldn't be here if not for you. I owe you everything."

"I just-"

"I know." He kissed her lips. She kissed back, and suddenly all that pent up emotion became a dire hunger. She tangled her tongue with his while she hurriedly pushed his coat off of his shoulders. She needed to touch him; to feel him. She needed contact to assure herself that all of this was real.

Neither one could shed their clothes fast enough. Booth backed her up to the bed where he laid her down over the edge. She yanked his body down on top of hers. Their hips met in exactly the right place. She locked her legs around him. And then like so many countless times before, two became one.

_Oh the sleep in your eyes is enough  
Let me be there, let me stay there awhile_

* * *

A shrill ringing phone woke Brennan up first thing in the morning. Her naked body was still pressed up against Booth's. He continued to sleep, too lost in his dreams to notice. She however, couldn't stand the racket. She sat up to realize she had no idea where their clothes were. The night had passed by in a dizzying blur of love making and devotion. Before it was over they'd taken a dip in the pool together. But from what she could remember they'd been exposed long before then.

Booth was laying on top of the blankets and sheets. The last thing she wanted was to disturb him. Finally she snatched his phone and ran into the bathroom. With an massive towel wrapped around her she sat down on the edge of the bathtub. The phone's caller ID revealed it was Dr. Merck calling. She couldn't breathe. "Booth's phone, this is Dr. Brennan," she managed to exhale.

"Hi, Dr. Brennan. It's Dr. Merck."

"Yes. Do you have Booth's test results?"

"No, actually. But that's why I'm calling." The doctor sighed. "The lab we sent the samples to had a fire. Everything was destroyed."

Brennan wanted to scream from the rush of frustration. "There's absolutely nothing that had already been determined? No results? What do we do now? Can we take another sample?"

"Not without a tumor. I know it's difficult but now we play the waiting game. If another one develops then we'll go ahead and remove it and test again. If one doesn't, then it's likely he'll be fine. This was just a minor, insignificant occurrence."

Glumly she thanked him and ended the call. Next to her she set the phone on the sink. Time passed while she sat isolated in thought. Nothing penetrated her bubble until she heard the bathroom door creak open. Booth peeked in, appearing groggy in a pair of plaid boxers. "You all right, Bones? You've been in here a while."

"That was Dr. Merck."

He stiffened, his expression understandably wary. "What did he say?"

She couldn't look him in the eyes. "He said you're fine. You'll be fine."


	106. Metamorphosis

**Two Months Later**

Life moved along at a much faster pace than Brennan was prepared for. Day by day her stomach grew a bit larger. As her pregnancy progressed she began seeing her obstetrician weekly. Brennan knew it was rare for a woman to carry twins for an entire nine months. Therefore she paid close attention to her body, taking special notice of anything that might hint at a sign of trouble. At times she was a bit over zealous. For the slightest twinge she was phoning her doctor. Down deep her rational self was dismayed. There were many risks with a twin pregnancy, however. She refused to take any chances. A miscarriage would possibly destroy Booth in addition to herself.

Not that anything seemed to be slowing him down. Lying was one of the best decisions she'd ever made. The Booth she'd known before this latest round of illness returned in tenfold. Without the burden weighing down his shoulders he'd become the happiest she'd seen him in quite some time. His zest for life was insatiable. In the mornings he took up running before she left for work, which she'd returned to after she determined he was of a sound mind. In the evenings when she arrived home he more often than not had dinner waiting on the table for them to dine as a family. The last of his metamorphosis was complete as his body at last finished filling out and toning down. He would always have scars to mark his ordeal. Scars she noticed he still took shame in. But after years of being in the darkness it seemed he'd finally stumbled into the light.

Even Alyssa seemed happier. Brennan had always thought of her as a pleasant baby until she began to see the way the child changed being with her father daily. She was always giggling and smiling. All the time she began to gab up a storm. Her vocabulary expanded. Booth's changes were making quite the impression on her.

With all of this positive energy brewing Brennan should have expected what came next. It was a Sunday night. The two were making dinner together. Booth had been suspiciously quiet all weekend. Not quite everything had changed in him, as it never would. Sometimes he was still unexplainably moody. She hadn't pressed him. He'd share when he was ready.

She was chopping up cucumber for their salad when he announced softly, "I'm testing to recertify tomorrow."

The end of her finger was nearly cut off. Down onto the counter she roughly dropped the knife so she could gawk at him with wide eyes. "What?"

He nodded without making eye contact. "Ten in the morning. I'm going to test."

"Booth-" She no longer had a real argument. He'd been given a clean bill of health. His skeleton was still in ruins but it would always be that way. His mind was clear.

"I know you don't understand it, Bones. You may be mad at me. But this is something I gotta at least try to do."

Despite his advancements she still didn't believe he had a snowball's chance in hell. Since he'd made it clear he was unstoppable she'd support him, and pick up the pieces when his world came down. "Okay."

Her second shock came when he was accepted. She'd been in her office when he'd come trumping in around noon. His head was down. _This is it, _Brennan thought. _It's finally done with. _She stood. "Booth, I'm so sor-"

He impishly grinned at her. From his pocket he removed a wallet and flipped it open. Shining at her was a brand new identification badge with his name and picture on it. Her heart stopped. If possible the twins would have come tumbling right out of her body. "You're an agent again?"

"I passed everything. I almost did was well as the first time I applied."

"But-but," she didn't understand. "Your mental health. The brain damage. Booth!"

He chuckled. "They said that I was such a good agent in the past, they were willing to overlook "certain things." It's not set in stone. I'm on probation so they can see what kind of job I can do. But we're back baby!"

"We're?" She blinked. "You mean-"

"You're not working with Carrey anymore. They started kicking him out of my office right before I left. It was classic."

For a moment she allowed herself to forget the horror and get swept up in happiness. She threw her arms around him and kissed him. As close as she tried to get to him her pregnant stomach kept them wedged apart. Booth laughed and rested his hand against her skin. "Everything's finally coming together," he whispered to her.

All too eager he was to solve his first case back. It took only a few days before he'd had it solved with the assistance of the Squints. The result was a much faster turnaround time than Brennan and Carrey had ever been able to make. Indeed, they were back.

The Squints threw a party for him at the Founding Fathers. He appreciated it and spoke when prompted to. Only Brennan seemed to see he was ill at ease. Never again would he ever feel comfortable in a large crowd of people. Also she thought that their place of choice carried too many memories for him. The night he'd been abducted he'd just come home from the bar. Surely he still connected the two.

Reminders flew at him from every different direction. Their following case involved remains that showed signs of a history of heavy physical abuse. They were woken in the overnight hours to be summoned to what appeared to be a grave site buried in a hole in the heart of the woods. Not knowing what to do with Alyssa, they strapped the child in her car seat and brought her along. Brennan went to work while Booth stayed outside the Suburban tending to her. It wasn't easy for Brennan to lower herself down into the pit by ladder. Nor was it any easier for her to kneel next to the remnants. _These babies are going to be here before we know it, _she thought grimly.

Several minutes passed before she determined it was indeed murder. "I want these remains and dirt they're encased in brought to the Jeffersonian!" She called to a few FBI techs working overhead. She went back to the ladder and proceeded to knock it down with her stomach. She exhaled deeply. Trying to lean over to fetch it was too much. "Booth!" She hollered. There was no way she wanted to include anyone else in her embarrassment.

His head appeared over the top of the pit within seconds. Moonlight silhouetted the outline of his hair and shoulders. "What?"

"I need help. I knocked over the ladder. I can't get back up."

"You shouldn't even be down here. Back up." He instructed. After she did he effortlessly hopped into the hole next to her.

"This is my job, Booth."

He tripped over a rock and nearly fell onto the ground. "I don't think you should be working."

"Why? I worked partly through my pregnancy with Alyssa and she's just fine. I was under a lot more stress then, as well."

In the blackness he felt around for the ladder. Finding it, he carried it back and set up against the lip of the opening. "That was one baby. This is two."

"I'm well aware of that, thank you." She ambled over. Before heading up she touched his shoulder. "Booth, you don't have to be worried about me. For the first time in years you don't get to worry. Just relax."

"I'll never not worry," he said quietly.

She sighed. Without another word she started up the ladder. Booth enclosed the space behind her. "Be careful. Get yourself up far enough and I'll help you. I'll push you."

"How?" Her spine straightened into a line the moment she felt his hands on her derriere. "Booth!"

"What?"

"I don't need your help! Don't touch my rear!"

"You were fine with me touching your "rear" _before _you got pregnant." He grumbled. He may have not been able to see but she glared cold ice at him. Without his help she climbed back onto solid earth on her own. Right behind her he popped out. Together the two climbed back into the Suburban. Booth turned in his seat to peek at Alyssa. "If we're both going to be working we better see about getting a nanny for her. We can't always be bringing her to crime scenes."

"It's two in the morning, Booth."

"So we'd have to find a nanny who's on call 24/7."

"If by 24/7 you mean twenty four hours and seven days a week, then you are correct."

Booth started the engine. At the same time a powerful wave of pain gripped Brennan's stomach. "Oh, God," she breathed, putting a hand on the dashboard to steady herself.

Booth panicked. "What? What is it?"

"I think I just… I think I just had a contraction."

The vehicle squealed in protest when Booth tried to turn over the engine for a second time. "Oh, man." He groaned. "But it's not time yet!"

"It's twins, Booth. I'm thirty four weeks. The average gestation period for twins is thirty six weeks. I told you this."

"We need to get to the hospital!"

"Calm down. It was one contraction. The hospital doesn't even-"

Booth threw the car into reverse, the violent shock of it cutting her off. He sped forward bouncing them across bumpy terrain. "You should have just let me push your ass." He muttered.

"Booth! Alyssa is-"

"She's sleeping."

"Ass!" They heard a child's voice screaming happily from the backseat. Brennan stared at Booth angrily. He slumped sheepishly behind the wheel. "I'm sorry!"

* * *

Despite having been through it before Booth was still a wreck at the hospital. Brennan dialed Angela to baby sit Alyssa while she was in labor. Through every contraction Booth stayed by his wife's side and coached her through it. Hours passed on. The episodes grew to be of a higher intensity and came closer together. When she fell asleep Booth stepped out for just a moment. He was beyond thirsty and just wanted a moment to stretch his legs.

"Hey, dad." He heard in the waiting room when he left the maternity ward. Angela offered him up a half smile. Alyssa was sleeping in her lap. "How's it going? Did she have the babies yet?"

"Not yet. But soon. She fell asleep so I'm just taking a quick walk."

She nodded. "I stopped by your place and picked up some things for you." A duffel bag was sitting at her feet. "Oh, and your child called me an ass."

Booth paled. "No, she didn't. That's just her word at the moment."

"Mmhmm." Angela smiled teasingly. "Way to go, daddy."

"I thought she was asleep!"

"Mr. Booth?" A doctor leaned out from behind one of the ward's revolving doors. "It's time. She's getting ready to push."

"Go. Everyone should be here when you get back. We'll be expecting babies."

He grinned. Before leaving he gave Alyssa a kiss on her cheek. Then he was off, expecting babies.

* * *

**Author's Note**: I know realistically, Booth would never get reinstated as an agent after all he's been through. However, since this is _my _story and rules were made for breaking, it stands.

**Author's note part two:** So I'm sure everyone knows of this SOPA & PIPA thing. I'm assuming will be one of the first to go if it passes. I am a writer. I can't NOT write. I've also spent what will be going on two years this summer of my life on this story. I'm not just giving up on it! So my solution to this is I will email chapters to anyone who is interested and would like to keep up on the story. I will **ONLY** do this is the site gets shut down. Anyone who is interested can PM me their email address, or leave it in a review. Lets hope this stupid thing doesn't pass. Either way, I won't be stopped! (The same goes for Learning How To Smile. Just let me know if you want both stories)


	107. Comings and Goings

Considering when Alyssa was born the fan fare was much the same. It took near another hour for both babies to make their arrival. After the first child was born Brennan barely had the strength to continue. They were stubborn children and didn't want to make their delivery easy on their mother. "I'm tired," she cried to Booth.

"I know." He knelt down to her level. "I know, Bones. Just one more big push, all right?" She felt him take her hand. She'd shut her eyes against the exhaustion. "Just one more and it's all over. We'll get to meet our babies." His lips pressed against her forehead.

Brennan couldn't help but to think of him and all his struggles. How many times he'd been physically tapped and emotionally too beat down to go on. But he had, and she used his strength to draw up some more of her own. One big push that involved a mighty scream and their second baby was born into the world. Both were cleaned and wrapped in matching pink and blue blankets. Booth cradled Riley, his new little girl, tightly to his chest. Brennan held onto Daniel, their son.

"You did it," Booth whispered breathlessly and kissed her. "I'm proud of you."

She decided she wouldn't tell him that he was the one who gave her the strength. There would be a time and place for that, and she didn't want to darken their magic day by reminding him of the past.

One by one family and friends trailed into the pregnancy suite. Words of admiration were spoken. Pictures were taken. Alyssa marveled over her two new siblings. "What do you think?" Booth asked, holding her up so she could see Riley. Angela had begged to cuddle the newborn.

"Bay-bee?" She questioned with eyes in the shapes of o's.

"Yeah. This is your new sister."

Alyssa didn't comprehend, and grew to be less than interested. The buttons on her father's dress shirt were much more interesting than another human life. Booth remembered then the change of attire Angela had brought him. After things settled down he intended to become more comfortable.

Brennan was only able to handle so much before Booth could see she her faint energy was waning. Subtly he suggested to their guests that the new parents wanted some time to be alone, using himself as the person to blame. "It's been an eventful day, and it's not even ten in the morning. I just need a break."

The group agreed to move on. Hodgins and Angela volunteered to keep Alyssa until Booth was ready to bring her home. After they said goodbye to the last visitor he gravitated back to Brennan's side. She scooted over in bed and indicated for him to sit next to her. He laid down. With the babies sleeping in their bassinet besides them she felt free to roll onto her side and lay her head on his chest. "Rebecca was foolish for not marrying you."

He chuckled. "That's the drugs talking there." She'd been given a painkiller to help her aching body relax.

"No. I mean it. You used yourself as a patsy to send everyone away because you knew I'd had enough. You're an amazing husband and a wonderful father. Her loss was my gain."

"She wouldn't have stayed with me through everything. She'd have given up on me long ago. She's not strong like you are." He stroked his fingers through her hair.

"Strength has nothing to do with it, Booth. I love you."

"I love you, too. And there will always be a part of me that will love her. She's the mother of my son. But she's got nothing on you." He grinned at her.

"We're pretty "awesome," aren't we?"

"Yeah, Bones. We're awesome."

* * *

The next month attested to their true endurance. Having twins was perhaps one of the most difficult challenges they'd ever faced. When Alyssa was born they'd been able to take turns fulfilling her needs. Now it seemed if one baby was unhappy, they _both _were unhappy, often with Alyssa echoing their chorus. By the end of the first week being back at home the parents were falling asleep in various places all over the house from fatigue. Such an example happened one afternoon when try as she might Brennan couldn't find Booth. All over the house she searched, ending up in the garage as a last resort. Sure enough, he was on his stomach stretched over the pavement next to a lawn mower. His eyes were shut as he snored with little force. Next to him she sat down and put a hand on his shoulder. He jumped, and she'd backed off. Some things would always remain the same. Without being alert he was aware. It was an unusual talent.

"Bones?" He slurred. His eyes rolled. "What's going on?"

"You tell me. You're sleeping in the garage."

"God." He turned over onto his back. "I came in here to… to get something. I'm sorry." He could only wonder what she must have been thinking, given his past tendency for disappearing.

"You're tired. There's no need to explain." She decided she wouldn't tell him how she'd fallen asleep on the dryer while doing laundry the day before. "I was thinking. We really shouldn't have anymore children. I think we should consider having you get a vasectomy."

He choked. "I'm sorry?"

"It's logical, Booth. Condoms and birth control aren't one hundred percent effective."

"No, no!" He hopped to his feet. "Why can't you just, get spayed or something?"

"Spaying is what they do to stop female dogs from reproducing, Booth. Your surgery is a much simpler procedure."

"You're kidding, right? No one's snipping anything off of me!"

"It was just a thought." She crossed her arms. "We need a concrete solution. I'm not giving up intercourse!"

"I'm not either! We're just going to have to be careful."

Brennan had brought the twins' baby monitor along while she'd been combing the house for him. Over the intercom one of them began to bawl, which naturally riled the other one. Booth sighed. "I'll get 'em. I can't believe you'd even suggest that." He grumbled on his way past her.

"Why? It's rational." She paused to reflect. "Now I kind of want intercourse."

* * *

All too soon the month swept by. Booth had no choice but to return to work. The morning he was readying to leave she sat at the end of the bed and watched him prepare glumly. Being on the other side, she now understood how he'd felt every time she'd left him. Watching him leave for a job she was currently unable to assist with was hard on her. "Be careful."

He chuckled, tying his tie in the mirror over their dresser. "I'm probably going to be in the office all day, catching up."

"I know. Just be careful."

He turned around. "What is it you think I'm going to do?"

She kissed him while fixing the mess he'd made out of his tie. "Be you."

"I'll be fine. I haven't made you a widow yet, have I?"

"That's not funny."

In his office paperwork was piled sky high for him. He stood in the doorway, heaving a sigh at the sight of it before proceeding forward. "What, did everyone dump their work on me?" He muttered.

A few minutes after he'd settled down to work there was a knock on his door. Through the glass panel he could see an agent who looked vaguely familiar to him. _I think maybe that's Agent Carrey. Bones' old partner. _Booth motioned him in with a flick of his fingers.

The man waltzed in, shutting the door behind him. He said nothing, just simply drank in the redecorating Booth had done. Since Carrey had cleared out all his personal items Booth had brought back his own: his framed Flyers print, pictures of his children, his bobble head bobby, and so on. Patiently he waited for the man to speak. Finally he was prompted to ask, "is there something you need, Agent Carrey?"

"Oh. No. This office just looks a lot different than it did when I had it. Better."

Booth's guard rose. "I have a feeling you're not here to discuss my office. What's really on your mind?"

"Really? You're back from paternity leave, right? How's Dr. Brennan doing?"

"She's fine." Booth didn't permit himself to say more.

"Good, good. I came to offer my help. My assistance."

"Why would we need you?"

"Well, from what I hear you're pretty worthless."

Booth shot up to his feet. His brow lowered. "Excuse me?" He growled quietly.

"That's what Dr. Brennan said, anyway. And she's right. I mean, face it dude. You're a head case."

Though nothing was funny Booth laughed. "I'm a head case, huh? When she was kidnapped I rescued her, while you were standing around panicking like a little kid."

"Who's the one who got her kidnapped in the first place? You. And from what I hear after you killed the guy you spent months trying to get over it. The FBI had no business in reinstating you. You're nothing but a loss. A wash up."

Rapidly the control Booth had on his temper was loosening. "I suggest you get out of my office."

"All right." He put up his hands. "I just feel bad for her, having to take care of _four _children. Give her my regards."

Booth fell back down into his office chair once the man was gone from view. He was incensed with rage. His heart pounded with the kind of emotion he hadn't felt in a long time. But in addition to the anger, he was also hurt. Brennan thought of him as useless? How long ago had she said this? What else had she said? Had she meant any of it? Was he really more of a burden than a husband?

From that point on it was difficult to focus on his work. He'd barely heard Charlie knock on his door and summon for him. "A.D. Hacker wants to see you."

"Me?" Booth propelled out of his chair. "I just got here. What could I have done already?"

Charlie shrugged, unhelpful. Booth made the trip from his office to Hacker's. His boss was waiting for him. "Agent Booth. Good to see you. Sit."

Booth did as told. Hacker shut the door behind him. "First day back, right? I must ask, how is Dr. Brennan doing?"

"She's doing good, sir." Booth was confused. This couldn't have been why he was called to Hacker's office.

"That's good. Well," he sat down once again behind his desk. "I'm sorry to have to inform you of this, but we're sending you out of the country on assignment. There's been a terrorist bombing at the U.S. Embassy in Saudi Arabia. We're deploying some of our agents out there to assist in evidence and search recovery. You've been selected."

"But," Booth was in shock. Certainly he'd never expected this. "I just got reinstated. I'm still on probation. Why me?"

"The work you've done in the past speak for you. Agent Andrew Carrey has been appointed in charge of the small batch of agents we're sending, and he specifically asked for you."

_Of course he did. _Booth exhaled. That rat. What was he supposed to do? He badly wanted to decline the case. Leaving Brennan alone a month after having twins was unfathomable. But at the same time he'd worked so hard to regain status at the FBI. Would he be throwing it all away if he refused to go?

"Your flight leaves in four hours. You better get packing. I would say I envy you agents." Hacker shook his head.

"Really?" _How about you go for me, then?_

"No! While you're digging around in the sand I'll be in my nice, comfortable office."

"Right." Booth excused himself. He walked back to his own office in a daze. How was he going to explain this to Brennan?


	108. Separation Line

Booth's mind looped in a continuous circle his entire drive home. How was he supposed to leave Brennan at a time like this? How could he let himself be separated from the twins when they were still so young? So many milestones would pass during the period in which he'd be gone. Both physical and mental illnesses had deprived him of getting to see some of Alyssa's firsts. Life was repeating itself, only this time it was work holding him hostage.

He hadn't spoken up in Hacker's office. He hadn't flat out refused to go, and he couldn't help wondering if he should have. Yet he'd worked so hard to get his job back. Probation meant he was still being observed closely for any signs of malfunction. He'd strived for far too long and pushed himself harder than he ever had. If refusing meant his job being taken away then all he'd worked for was in vain.

By the time he'd arrived home he still hadn't found any resolution. The downstairs was empty when he walked in. Upstairs he could hear Alyssa splashing around in the bathtub. Her giggles carried down to him. He closed his eyes and smiled, enjoying the sound of the moment. He wouldn't be getting to experience them for a while. With lowered shoulders he joined his family in the bathroom. The twins were napping soundly in their nursery.

"You're home early." Brennan remarked, pouring some baby shampoo into her hand and massaging it into Alyssa's hair. "I tried making her spaghetti for lunch."

"And it ended up all over?" He questioned his daughter in a silly voice. She laughed and reached her hand out to him.

"Yes." Brennan peeked over her shoulder. "Did something happen at work?"

"Sort of." He leaned against the wall. "I'm just here to pack. They're sending me to Saudi Arabia."

"What?" Brennan was on her feet. "Why?"

"I'm helping investigate and retrieve evidence from a bombing at the U.S. Embassy. Your friend Carrey asked for me personally. He's heading the team they're sending."

"A terrorist bombing? Carrey?" She repeated incredulously. "Booth, he'll get you killed. He's incompetent. He's a… he's a…" She couldn't find the right word to express how she felt. "An asshat!" She exclaimed out of frustration.

"Ass!" Alyssa was quick to mimic.

"Yeah. That may be." His thoughts reflected to the comments in which Carrey had made regarding Brennan's thoughts on him. "I need to pack. My flight leaves in a few hours." He left them to rummage through the hall closet for his suitcase.

"Booth!" Brennan finished with Alyssa as fast as she could without denying her any proper hygiene care. She wrapped her up in a hooded towel that was in the shape of a bunny. The pair joined Booth in the bedroom where he was throwing things onto the bed. "You can't go!"

"I have to. They're sending me."

"Then tell them no."

"I can't. They might take my job away if I refuse, Bones. I can't let that happen. I called Angela from the office." He pulled various dress shirts off hangers in the closet and folded them neatly. "She said she can stay with you to help with the babies while I'm gone."

She scowled. "I can take care of my family on my own." She wasn't sure she could, actually. But she resented him making assumptions and taking action without consulting her first.

"Yeah, apparently." He muttered. She reeled back, put off by his tone. "What are you referring to?"

His movements became aggressive with suppressed anger. "According to Carrey, you think I'm pretty worthless."

She looked like a deer caught in headlights. Her blue eyes mirrored how stunned she was. "I never said that, Booth."

"Well," he zipped his suitcase shut. "You obviously said something that gave him that impression."

"…I might have vented some frustration to him. But I never said you were worthless, or thought that! You were sick and you weren't trying to get better. I just needed someone to talk to. You weren't easy to deal with."

Finished packing, he heaved the luggage from the bed. Brennan was hot on his heels as he journeyed into the nursery to say goodbye to the twins. She fell silent, not wanting to disturb them as Booth touched each of their heads and kissed them gently. "Love you two," he whispered before leaving the bedroom. Again she followed him, still carting Alyssa.

All three of them stopped at the front door. Booth paid more attention to his daughter then he did his wife. "Don't do anything cute while I'm gone." He tickled her. Again she gave her contagious smile and laugh. She wrapped her petite hands around a few of his fingers. "Daddee."

He kissed her cheek. "My little Lissie. Be good for daddy, all right?"

"Booth." Brennan interrupted. "Don't leave."

"I have to, Bones. I'm sorry."

Brennan set Alyssa down onto the floor. She pulled Booth close to her and clung onto his shoulders. He wasn't supposed to leave. This never should have happened. She should have been firmer in her resistance to him reapplying to the FBI. But she hadn't, and he'd been accepted, and now here they were. He had one foot out the door and was carrying anger along with his luggage. She was scrambling to pick up the pieces before he left. "Please," she pleaded in his ear. "I don't care if you are terminated from the bureau."

"But I do," he undertoned back. "I'll call you, all right? We won't be out of touch."

_Yes we will, _she thought with a sniffle. _I won't be able to physically touch you. That's very out of touch. _These thoughts she kept to herself. Booth was refusing to bow down. By now she knew she was just going to have to accept it.

The couple kissed. They held onto one another until it was obvious their time together had come to an end. He had a plane to catch. With one last kiss he was heading for his car. Brennan shut the door, unable to watch his departure. The door safely concealed the tears she burst into.

* * *

A good solid month passed by while Booth was out of the country. Every passing day brought forth more loneliness and headache for Brennan. Her husband did indeed keep in touch, but not as often as she would have liked. Their conversations were strained by their last memory together. Yet neither one could bring up their issues over the phone. A few minutes here and there were all they ever received with one another. These talks were sacred and not meant to be desecrated.

"You should have phone sex with him." Angela declared wickedly one night after all the children had gone to bed. The two had stayed up late dishing like teenagers. After a few days of trying to manage her new household on her own Brennan had broken down and called on her best friend for assistance.

"Ange!"

"Why not? You both have needs. You can't tell me you don't miss him sexually."

She missed him in every way. But it did seem after he'd left her libido had kicked itself up a notch. Her best fantasizes occurred the nights she dreamed about picking him up from the airport. In that world they never made it home before she woke. Whether it was the car or a place of seclusion inside the airport, the two could not keep their hands off of one another. Their sex was passionate and full of delayed longing for one another. This was what Brennan thought of now. "Of course I do. But we aren't in the same time zone." For some reason she couldn't admit to Angela that this was a behavior she didn't want to engage in. Not at this time with so much stress between them. "When I'm awake with the children he's readying for bed, and vice versa. There's never a good time."

"Wouldn't stop me." Angela chuckled.

Just before five that following morning Brennan's cell phone rang. With blurry, sleep deprived eyes she could see Booth was calling. That was peculiar. He knew better than to call so early. "Brennan," she answered as her eyes closed again.

"Bones," Booth slurred tiredly over the line. His voice was like an instant shot of caffeine inserted into her veins. Something wasn't right. "Booth? What's wrong?"

"Nuthin.' Jus callin…"

She sat straight up. Something was terribly wrong. "What's happened? You don't sound right."

"Jus' tired."

"No. You're slurring and you never call me this early. What's. Wrong?" She developed an edge to her voice. Maybe stern reprimand would make a difference.

"Jus' wanted to… hear you. I'll… I'll let you go."

"No!" She could hear how heavily he was breathing. Panic was speeding up her pulse. "Give me someone to talk to! Get me Carrey!"

"Sleepin.' I'm in… I should go."

"Booth!"

The line disconnected. She immediately tried to call him back. He didn't answer. During the rest of her morning she called him as often as she could. Every time her call went unanswered. She was readying to call the bureau when at long last she got a hold of him. "Where have you been?" She screeched.

"Whoa. Easy, Bones. I've been sleeping."

She stumbled through a few breaths to calm herself. "Do you have any idea what you've done? I've been so worried."

"Why?"

He didn't remember? Her mouth fell open. "You called me early this morning, Booth."

"No I didn't."

"Yes, you did! You sounded… intoxicated."

"I didn't call you," he laughed. She could hear him pull the phone away from his ear. He clicked a few buttons, undoubtedly checking his "dialed calls" list. "Huh. Guess I did. I guess I was more tired than I thought last night."

Tired? No. He wasn't weaseling out of this one. "No. I won't accept that-"

There was noise in the background. "I gotta go. I love you. I'll call you later."

She shouted his name one last time only to be hung up on.

* * *

Following that call he refused to discuss his behavior. "I'm sorry, I don't remember." He'd insist any time she tried to address it. "I was tired. I'd had a long day. Why are you so obsessed with this, Bones?"

_Because I lied to you about Dr. Merck's findings, and your behavior was abnormal. _"You scared me. After all you've been through-"

"I'm fine. Really. It was just a delirious exhaustion phone call."

She tried to reassure herself. She tried telling her skeptic mind that he had been drinking that night and hadn't wanted her to know. Yes. That had to be it.

A few weeks later she received official word that the team had finished their time and performed their duties. Angela agreed to baby sit so that Brennan alone could pick her husband up from the airport. Impatiently she waited in the terminal for his plane to arrive. She wasn't satisfied until men in suits that near screamed "federal" to her emerged at his gate. Just before Booth she saw Carrey. The man raised his hand to greet her and winked. She wrinkled her nose at him. Carrey obviously had misunderstood their working relationship. Someday soon she'd have to set him straight.

Once she saw Booth she hurried to him with quickened steps. He dropped his bag and extended his arms the moment he saw her. She fit into them perfectly. The two of them kissed for several minutes before Brennan pulled away only far enough so that she could stay in his arms. At first glance she could see he'd lost weight. His skin was darkened with the kind of tan that came from working in the sun. All in all he looked every bit like a man who'd spent the last month in a tense situation in the extreme heat and sandy terrain. "I missed you."

"I missed you too." He kissed her again. "Lets get out of here. I want to see my babies."

Hand in hand she led him out to where their car was parked. Neither one noticed Carrey frowning at their backs.


	109. Hey Jealousy

The drive back through traffic was filled with small talk. Booth didn't want to seem to discuss his time overseas, and quite frankly Brennan wasn't too keen to hear about it. That night; their phone call replayed repetitiously through her mind. The more time that slipped by, the more difficulty she had discerning that Booth was drunk. Yet when she looked at him nothing seemed out of place. His tanned skin had a healthy glow. His eyes were bright. Despite having lost weight he still had muscle mass spread over his body. There were no outwardly signs of trauma that she could find. _Maybe he hit his head? It could cause his delusion but I wouldn't necessarily find a wound. _She had no idea what the scene of the bombing looked like, so there was a chance he could have been struck in the head by a falling object loosened by environmental factors.

She didn't sense that he was in pain. Or depressed. Or suffering from any other of his past ailments. All she could determine from her silent observations was his exhaustion. Booth was beyond tired. "What?" He asked, catching her eye.

"Nothing. You just… you appear worn out."

"That's because I am."

It was late by the time they arrived home. Booth gave Angela a quick hello before hopping upstairs to see his children. Angela took a hold of Brennan's arm as she swooped by to join him. "You know, if you two want to go somewhere tonight to get _reacquainted, _I could stay overnight."

"I don't know, Ange. He's tired from his flight. I don't think he'd be up for anything of a sexual nature."

"He's a man, sweetie. They're always up for sex. At the very least you could give him a-"

She was cut off as Booth clomped back down to them. He saw the slight blush across Angela's cheeks and Brennan's blank expression. "What? What were the two of you talking about?"

"Me staying to baby sit so you two can go out tonight and make love."

"I said you were too tired, so Angela was suggesting we engage in oral-"

He put up a hand. "I'm going to go back upstairs and pretend I didn't walk into this conversation. But thanks, Angela. Thanks for babysitting and considering my sexual needs." He kissed her cheek.

"You don't know what you're missing." She warned him as he left. "She's been oozing sexual tension. She needs a release!"

"Angela!"

"Sweetie, lets face it. You two need a good tumble in the sack together."

After she showed Angela out Brennan traced Booth's footsteps to their bedroom. He was laying at the bottom of the bed in the dark. His feet were planted on the floor. His arms were stretched out at his sides. She tucked a leg under her as she dropped down onto the bed besides him. Though it was dark she could still see his head turn to face her. One arm lifted so that his hand could massage her knee lovingly. "I'm so glad to be home."

"So am I. The children missed you. Alyssa asked where you were daily."

"I'll have to take her to the park tomorrow or something. Something to make it up to her, and assure her I'm not going anywhere again for a while."

"You don't know that," Brennan argued quietly. Sadly. "If they already sent you overseas once while you were still on probation-"

"I'm going to do my best, okay? No more long distance trips without you." His hand came to a rest. She laid her own hand on top of his. His words stirred up her thoughts on his mysterious phone call yet again. "Booth, that night you called me…" She hesitated.

"I sort of remember," he admitted for the first time. "I didn't want to say anything to you while I was out there. I was afraid of what you'd do."

So it had been something bad. She wordlessly braced herself. In a sign of encouragement to continue she squeezed his hand. He exhaled. "I had a seizure, Bones. I was so tired. I hadn't really been sleeping, and it just hit me. Afterwards I woke up really confused and dazed. I remember calling you but I can't remember what I said."

"You had a seizure from exhaustion?" She definitely didn't like the sound of that, though she knew it happened at times with those who suffered from epileptic events.

"Yeah. Carrey was pushing me pretty hard out there, not giving me a break. Like I had something to prove to him." He snorted, which indicated to her that though he talked tough, Booth felt like he did. "He's just waiting for me to screw up. He wants me out of the bureau."

"But… why? Your career has no affect on his."

"Isn't it obvious? You're the reason."

She pulled back. "Me?"

"Bones," he chuckled. "He's got a thing for you. He had you at work all to himself until I was reinstated. He's pissed you got split up. Now he wants me out so he can get you back."

"I would never work with him again. I'd quit. You should have told me this, Booth."

"I can take care of myself."

"You should have told me you had a seizure."

He exhaled. "You would have found a way to make me come home. What I'm doing is important to me. I need to work."

"Is it more important than your life? Your health?"

"We both know I have seizures from time to time. That's never going to go away. It doesn't mean I'm not healthy. It's the brain damage."

Her anger was heating up faster than a boiler. "And what happens if you have one during a stakeout? Or while you're chasing someone?"

"The bureau knows I have certain limitations."

"And what happens if you're struck in the head? The brain can only take so many concussions before-"

"I know, Bones." He was getting annoyed. "It's a common hockey injury. I know all about what can happen."

"And that doesn't stop you?"

"I can't stop. I won't. If it kills me I'm doing something I love again. My life is almost completely back to normal. I've spend years rebuilding, taking back what she took away from me. I'm not willing to just roll over because of some risks. Not now. Not after everything I've been through. Look," he sat up. "This isn't exactly how I pictured my first night back home to go. If you want to be angry with me I can go sleep downstairs. I love you, but I'm too tired to care."

Instead of being furious she was saddened. "Fine." She crawled away from him and tucked herself down beneath the sheets. He did the same. She cuddled close to him and laid her head down on his chest. She'd told him countless times not to worry, but was wondering if she herself would ever be able to stop worrying about him.

His fantasy of running away to Aruba sounded better and better.

* * *

Brennan woke up the following morning to an empty bed. She shut her eyes tightly against a wave of tears she couldn't help. With everyone else she could compartmentalize; keep up her cold exterior. But Booth after all they'd been through together could make her bawl like a baby over the simplest action.

She forced herself out of bed to feed the twins. All the while she wondered where she'd find him. Had he not gotten over last night? Had he left? Was he somewhere in the house taking care of his own pity? After she finished with the twins she headed downstairs towards the kitchen. Halfway down she could hear a radio playing. It was tuned to an oldies station. "Do Wah Diddy' was playing. The closer she got she could hear Booth singing along. Alyssa was mimicking him in her mixed language of English and gibberish. Brennan couldn't stop herself from grinning. It was an absolutely sweet scene.

She emerged from the stairs. Booth was at the oven making scrambled eggs. A plate of pancakes was sitting off to the side. He spotted her and grinned. Soon as he finished the eggs he sashayed his way over to her. He planted his hands on his hips and goofily swung her around in a dance. Laughing, she put her hands on his shoulders and allowed him to take the lead. When the song ended he kissed her tenderly on the lips. "Good morning."

She chuckled. "You seem to be in a good mood."

He just smiled devilishly. "I made you a plate breakfast. Pancakes for you and scrambled eggs for my little girl."

"You aren't eating?" She asked in surprise.

"No. My stomach's not feeling too well. I think I caught something on the plane. Eat." He insisted firmly. And so she did. They shared a pleasant morning. While Brennan consumed her food Booth fed Alyssa hers. The small child wasn't too sure about her meal at first, but finally decided they were all right. Once she was finished he headed upstairs to begin getting ready for work. On his way out the door he gave her one final kiss. "I'll see you later."

"Yes, you will." Before then Brennan had her own business to take care of.

* * *

To say Carrey was surprised when Brennan walked through his office door was an understatement. He rose to his feet. "Hi. What are you doing here? Did you finally come to your senses?" Smugly, he grinned.

She disregarded his question. "I want you to back off of Booth."

"What? Did he send you here? He can't handle me himself?"

"He has no idea I'm here. He doesn't deserve your tormenting. Your jealousy."

Carrey came around his desk. "No. What he doesn't deserve is his job. What he doesn't deserve is you. He's worthless. You said it yourself."

"I never said that. You told him what wasn't true. And I'll never confide anything to you again. In fact, I never want to see you again."

He closed in on her. "Admit the truth, Temperance. You belong with me, not some washed up loser."

Her hand clenched into a fist. She was set to punch him when he grabbed her roughly by her waist and forced her lips to his. Shocked she was, and therefore it took her a moment to try to push herself away.

Before that time came Booth walked into Carrey's office. All he saw was the two of them sharing an intimate affection.


	110. A Drop In The Ocean

Brennan shoved herself off of Carrey. Her first instinct was to lash out. Absolutely no one touched her with unwanted advances. Carrey's intentions of course, were anything but pure. She couldn't help but to wonder if he'd known Booth would be arriving in his office at that exact moment. But that would be giving him more credit than he deserved. The agent may have been intelligent, but he didn't have the brains to be cunning. So instead of striking him she directed her attention to Booth.

There were so many different emotions mirroring in his eyes that she couldn't identify how he was feeling. Back and forth his eyes darted between them. His fists were tightened with a harnessed fury. But to Brennan's surprise he wordlessly turned his back on them both. Away from the scene he disappeared.

Carrey snickered. "What kind of husband is he? What kind of man is he? He won't even fight for you. That just further proves my point that-"

Brennan had had enough. Giving not one iota of warning she whirled and pummeled her fist straight into Carrey's jaw. The impact was so severe that in his unprepared state he crashed down onto the floor. "If I ever see you again you will be sitting in a jail cell for assault." She hissed her promise at him. "You stay away from me. You stay away from Booth. This is finished."

She fled his office to chase after Booth. The trouble was, the bureau was huge. Despite having encountered the building during her job with him for years she still wasn't as familiar with the layout as he was. There were numerous places he could seek sanctuary in if he wanted to lose her. A sick feeling in the pit of her stomach insisted to her that he likely didn't want to be found. Well, that was too damn bad. She refused to let him go on thinking the worst.

_Where could he be? _She punched at the elevator button. Psychology was never her strong suit, which considering Booth was full of it was a terrible thing. _I'm no psychologist, but I'm a genius. I can do this. What would Sweets say about him? _She thought hard. _He'd go for what was familiar; what he knows. He'd try to recreate the worst period of his life because that's what he's relating to. _She gasped with the realization. _He'd go underground. He's hiding in the basement._

Sure enough, in the end that was where she located him. She'd been fortunate in taking the correct elevator, as he wasn't too far away from her when the doors opened. There wasn't too much to this particular wing of the basement. Just dusty boxes of files and broken office equipment. Booth was sitting down on the floor with his back up against the wall. He silently watched her approach.

"Booth," she bent besides him. "I didn't kiss him, he ambushed me. I would never-"

"I know." He cut her off with a weak smile. "I know you wouldn't, Bones. I had to walk away or else I would have done something I'd regretted."

"Why didn't you?" She asked carefully. It wasn't as though she encouraged violence. But she was rather surprised in how rational he seemed.

"Fighting Carrey in front of a bullpen full of agents? I would have landed in a world of hurt."

"But he kissed me. You would have had every right."

"It would have been your word against his, and I would have initiated the fight by throwing the first punch. I hated walking away." He smiled slightly. "But I figured you could take him."

She shared his smile. "I punched him so hard he fell onto the floor."

He laughed softly. "'Atta girl."

She kissed him. "You should come home with me. You need a break." Though he'd slept overnight he still appeared tuckered out. She hated seeing it, and couldn't imagine what he must have felt now after what he'd witnessed.

"I still have work to do. I can't just walk out on it." He put his head in his hands. "I'll try and duck out early though, okay? Maybe we can go out for dinner or something."

"I'd like that." She stood. When he didn't rise with her she was prompted to ask, "aren't you coming?"

"I just want to stay here a little while longer. Think a little bit." He glanced to her. "I'm sorry I didn't fight for you, Bones. If the situation were different I would have beat him to the ground."

"I know you would've, Booth. What you did actually held more meaning. You trusted in me, and you believed me. You believed _in_ me. Thank you." His sad smile was the last thing she saw as she stepped into the elevator car.

* * *

Booth did indeed take Brennan out that evening. Angela once again graciously agreed to baby sit so the couple could have their time alone. Back at the Jeffersonian earlier in the day Brennan had told her best friend all that had occurred in Carrey's office. Angela had been understandably shocked. "You should report him, sweetie. He needs to be reprimanded. That is not appropriate."

"But Booth is correct. It will be his word against mine. I'm sure they wouldn't take the allegation lightly but I'm not sure what can be done. Besides, I feel he got his." Her hand may have hurt but she'd enjoyed putting the agent in his place.

"But what if he tries it again?"

"If he were to I firmly believe Booth would result to physical altercation this time. He feels guilty he didn't stay and fight this afternoon." She'd lowered her gaze to her desk.

"But he gave you the ultimate compliment by showing trust and faith in you." Angela had shaken her head. "Men."

Booth wasn't able to leave work early but he was willing to fulfill his promise on dining with her. They hadn't decided on anywhere fancy, choosing to grab a bite at the Royal Diner. Through their meal they kept their conversation light. Brennan couldn't help but to notice he mostly picked at his food. _He said he wasn't feeling well this morning, _she reminded herself. _And I'm sure seeing Carrey and I bothered him more than he's letting on. _Still, she couldn't help but to think about his lost test results. _Is there a way I can subtly suggest he go for an x-ray?_

Afterwards they went for drinks at the Founding Fathers. She noticed once again that Booth wasn't entirely comfortable, yet it'd been his idea to go there. If she wasn't able to read it in his facial expression it was more than clear as he consumed beer after beer. Within an hour and a half she saw how glassy his eyes had become. _Perhaps I'll be driving home tonight._

He caught her stare. "I'm not drunk," he insisted. "Just… drunker than usual."

"Are you all right, Booth? I know today-"

"I'm fine." He insisted. "Really, Bones. I am."

She wasn't too sold on his reassuring.

They arrived home shortly after midnight. They said goodbye to Angela at the door before crawling upstairs together. All the children were asleep. The house was completely silent. In all the chaos of their day it was enjoyable. But on the other hand Brennan was seeking to stir up some commotion of her own.

Booth had his back to her. He was kicking his shoes off when she came to stand behind him. She whisked his shirt off over his back and shoulders. Her hands wrapped around his front to massage his chest while she left soft kisses on his shoulders. Though her motions were awkward she dipped lower and was able to remove his belt and undo his pants. She slid them down off of his hips.

"Bones," he whispered in a throaty growl.

They had yet to make love since she'd given birth. Tonight she'd gotten it in her mind to change all that. She yanked her own shirt off while he turned around to face her in his arms. He kissed her, his passion and willingness already obvious the moment his tongue made contact with hers. They backed up together to the edge of the bed. She fell down onto her back and enjoyed watching him remove the barriers of clothing left keeping them apart. His fingers skirted across her skin. He was kissing her again when he lowered his body weight onto hers. Before there was any interaction he jerked back. With labored breathing he winced his eyes closed.

Brennan's first thought was Amanda. For whatever reason he was remembering trauma. _But that doesn't make any sense. He's been fine for years. Why now? _Her second thought was that he was favoring his ribs as he was known to do. They were fine, but the position in which he'd brought his arm back protectively to his side suggested that mentally he was thinking otherwise. "Booth? You all right?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Sorry."

She tried a different approach. Up to her feet she rose. Down onto his back she pushed him instead. She'd barely crawled up onto his hips when his body flinched and his hands were scrambling for her. Immediately she slid off. "You're not all right. What's wrong?"

"Its that flu bug I'm getting." He sat up and bent at the waist, keeping his arms around himself. "It just hurts. I'm sorry."

She wouldn't lie, she was disappointed. But his health was more important to her. Tenderly she kissed him. "There's no need to be sorry. We'll try for another night."

"Well," he switched their positions for a second time. "I can still do for you."

Before she could utter another word he pleased her. Needless to say she fell asleep feeling satisfied.

* * *

For the next few days Brennan continued to keep an eye on Booth. Every day his exhaustion seemed to grow. He continued to have a difficult time eating. She was beginning to think he'd developed another ulcer, and it wasn't the flu at all. He shied away from the topic any time she brought up visiting a doctor. The same went for Agent Carrey. He'd purposefully ignore her whenever she questioned how the situation was progressing.

She was at the office one day when she received an email about a forensic conference taking place in Aruba. She'd been invited to speak. To herself she smiled, recalling Booth's anesthetic fantasy. _Too bad we can't go. It would probably do us both some good. _The continued reading her other emails but her thoughts kept returning to the first. _Why couldn't we go? There's the twins. But my dad could sit with them. And we could bring Alyssa. _On a whim she called her father to see if he'd stay with the twins. He more than readily agreed. _That's one issue down. The next would be Booth's job. _Again, for the hell of it she was making a phone call to his boss. To her surprise he obliged as well, although not without giving her some razzing for it. _All I have to do now is convince Booth._

Just about the time she knew he was due to leave she met him at his office. The door was closed, and he had someone inside he was interviewing. He was sitting on the edge of his desk, his arms folded, and nodding intently. They finished up their meeting not before long. Once the man was on his way she slipped inside. "Hey."

"Hi, Bones." He closed a file and tucked it away in his cabinet. "What are you doing here?"

She kissed him. "I have some news. We're going to Aruba."

He blinked. "What?"

She explained about the conference. "Remember your fantasy about escaping away? Now we can for a short period of time."

Most definitely was he reluctant. "What about the babies? And my job?"

"I thought Alyssa could come with us. My dad agreed to watch the twins, and I spoke with Hacker and he's already given you time off." She didn't like how fast his expression was falling. "Don't you want to go?"

"You should have talked to me first before making all these plans." He ran his hands over his face.

Judging by the amount of stress he was displaying, she felt he _needed _to go. "Is Carrey bothering you, Booth?"

"No." He shot her down quickly. Too quickly. "I guess it's all right. Probably wouldn't hurt me any. And it'd be fun to take Alyssa into the ocean for the first time."

She brightened. "It'll be good, Booth. For all of us." She'd see to it that it was.


	111. Firsts

**A Week Later**

Turquoise water as clear and smooth as flawless glass crashed up onto the endless white sands seemed to go on for miles at a stretch. The ocean performed a dance for all who were paying close enough attention. Taking the lead it would slide forward before treating, taking whatever in its path along for the ride. Booth stood yards from the parade holding his daughter in his arms. "You wanna go in the ocean?" He asked her. To his amusement she seemed to study the environment very studiously before making a decision. In all honesty he wouldn't have minded cradling her forever. With her hair up in pigtails and her skin smelling of baby soft sun screen, he felt joy just being with her.

"Yes." She finally nodded seriously. "Go! Put me down!"

Laughing he set her down onto the ground. Before they'd left the hotel room he'd put special "pool shoes" on her feet so the sun beaten sand didn't burn her tender skin. "You gotta hold onto my hands though, all right?"

Begrudgingly she fit her small hands into her father's palms. Just a child and already a dare devil. For Booth's taste she was growing up just a bit too fast. He wished there was a way to slow time; to give him more of days like the one they'd been sharing.

It'd been a week since they'd left the dreary weather of Washington D.C. for the sun kissed island. Brennan had spent most of the duration of their time writing and rehearsing. Every time she seemed to be finished with her speech she found a piece to be discontented with. Balled up pieces of paper were scattered all over their hotel room. Alyssa had taken great pleasure in creating a "paper snowman" out of them. Booth was eagerly anticipating Brennan being done with the entire project. Hopefully then she'd be able to enjoy some time with her family.

"Here we go." Keeping a tight grasp on her hands he walked her forward into the water. The waves were barely lapping at her knees before he stopped her. "You're in the ocean, Lissie. What do you think?"

"Cooollldddd," she declared with a frown, looking up to him.

"Cold?" Booth repeated incredulously. The water felt wonderful around his ankles; the right temperature. He could only gather that the slight chill in the wind was her cause for concern. "You want out?"

"Play." She pointed to a family whose children were playing with sand buckets. Booth chuckled. He scooped her back up into his arms. "Okay. Fine. We'll play for a while. Maybe tomorrow we'll try again."

Soon he'd spread out a towel on the sand for them. He stretched out on his back while keeping a mindful eye on his daughter. Alyssa piled as much sand as she could in a bright pink plastic pail he'd gotten her. Then she'd turn it over, giggling with delight as the sand cascaded back down onto the ground. She had no interest in building. No interest in making molds. Just filling and dumping.

He let the sounds of the world wash over him. The sound of the water was damn near a lullaby, combining with the sun to convince him he was safe and warm. A gentle wind swished the palm trees. It all was so relaxing. And yet his mind just wouldn't quit. Nature may have been trying to lure him into its intricate web. But his priority was the child by his side. Even without her presence he couldn't guarantee that he would feel comfortable falling asleep, whether it was an active beach or not.

Alyssa soon became disinterested with her game. She sat down besides her father. A long moment she spent watching him before leaping on his chest in her usual game. Booth was wincing with pain before she'd even landed on him. The preparation was nothing compared to what he felt on impact. "Alyssa!" He hissed as jerked upright, catching her in his arms as she slipped back off of his chest. "You can't be doing that! You make daddy hurt when you do that!"

Her small face crumpled with sadness. Tears were due to arrive at any moment. With a deep sigh he hugged her close. "You shouldn't be jumping on people, okay? Especially me. Daddy's got boo boos that you can't see. Someday you'll understand." He brushed some sand off her cheek. _And then some things about me will start to make sense to you. _"Don't cry. I love you." He kissed the top of her forehead.

Since he'd been in Aruba he hadn't thought of the bureau once. Carrey hadn't crossed his mind, nor did the incessant bullying he'd been taking out on Booth. In this perfect paradise there was no crime; no murder. No jealous agents. No sense of time as it floated on a regular ticking clock. Booth could truly see himself retiring with his family to such a place. When Brennan had viewed her last body, and he'd solved his last crime, perhaps this would be the place they'd return to. With the way Booth's body was treating him he worried that day was coming sooner than he planned.

Just then his cell chirped from the beach bag he'd brought out with them. He fished it out. "Oh. Mommy wants us. We better head in. You want an ice cream?"

All could always be repaired with ice cream. He felt like he was bribing her but didn't quite regret it. Every child deserved a treat. Before journeying to their hotel room he bought Alyssa an ice cream sandwich. She happy sucked on it while he carried her through the lobby.

They hotel they'd been set up in was quite a beauty. It stretched forty floors into the sky. The elevator was made completely of glass, giving one the illusion that they were flying while traveling upwards to their room. The lobby ran the entire length of the first floor. It was open and spacious, with skylights bringing in sunshine to the numerous luscious green plants that grew in planters. Somewhere there was an indoor pool for when the weather outside was spotty. Booth hadn't attempted to find it yet. He didn't need to.

Their room happened to be on the second floor. Brennan was hunched over her laptop when Booth and Alyssa entered. She took a look at them before doing a double take. "She's eating ice cream? She's going to spoil her dinner."

"I think more of it is on her chin than in her mouth, anyway." He set her down and knelt in front of her. "When you're finished I'll run you a bath, okay? We should get you cleaned up before we go out again."

Alyssa continued to happily munch on her ice cream. Anything could have been said to her as long as her dessert wasn't taken away. Brennan watched them. "Did you eat any ice cream?" She dared to ask Booth.

"No. I'm good."

"You're not good, Booth. You barely ate any breakfast. You're losing weight. And don't try to tell me this is some flu virus." She warned him as he opened his mouth to speak. "If you were sick you would have come down ill well before now. I want you to see a doctor when we get home."

He completely disregarded her speech. "Did you finish your thing for tomorrow?"

"Booth." She sighed in annoyance. "Yes. I'm prepared. How did Alyssa like the ocean?"

"Cold!" She told her mother, pretending to shiver. Booth shrugged. "The breeze was a little cool. Water felt fine though. We can try again, when you can be with us this time." He knew Brennan had regretted not being there when her daughter had experienced the coast for the first time.

"I would like that." She agreed. It bothered her more than she was letting on his dismissal of her concern. She couldn't discern whether he was choosing to hide something or was simply aloof. As time had well shown either had the possibility to be true with him. Being on vacation, she didn't have a hard time imaging him playing down his symptoms over worry of her fear. Without a case or Carrey in their face she doubted stress was a factor in his behavior. Regardless of whatever the issue she just couldn't let it go on. If she had to find a doctor on the island then she would. "I'm going to run Alyssa a bath. Then I would like it if we _all _could go out for dinner. In the meantime you should perhaps lay down and rest. I don't care what you say. You look exhausted."

He smiled a little. "Yeah. I can lay down for a while." When she tried to brush by him he stopped her with a kiss. "Hey, Bones. Don't be mad, or worried. You're not allowed while we're here, okay? This is paradise. All those worries and stuff? We left them behind in D.C. So relax." His hands occupied the space between her hips and chest. "Smile for me. Leave it behind. All right?"

His ways of worming into her good graces sometimes got to her. But she couldn't help but to roll her eyes and smile a little at his effort. "Promise me you'll see a doctor when we get back."

"It's the first thing I'll do." His eyes twinkled at her. She knew she needed to move on before she was completely sucked into his charms. Alyssa was scooped up into her arms. The two departed for the bathroom. Booth carefully set Brennan's laptop down on the floor before sprawling across the bed. All the aches and pains he'd been feeling settled down into a low hum. He had to admit it. Laying down on a comfy bed for a few minutes was rather invigorating. On the table next to the bed he found the television remote. In search for sports he landed on a station broadcasting the news. What he saw made him sit up in alarm.

"Hey, Bones?"

Brennan had just begun to run some water in the bathtub. "What?" She called back without disguising her hint of annoyance.

"Your speech is tomorrow, right?"

"Yes."

"And then we're supposed to leave the next afternoon?"

There was something in his tone she couldn't identify, but she didn't like it. She turned off the faucet. With her hand gripping Alyssa's the two returned to where Booth was. "Yes. Why?"

He pointed to television with the remote control. "Because I don't know if you're going to be giving that speech. And I don't think we're leaving any time soon."

Brennan followed his invisible trail. Across the bottom of the screen a bold news headline read, **Hurricane Iris Baring Down On The Tropics. **

"Baby's first time in the ocean," Booth muttered. "And baby's first hurricane."


	112. Ignorance

Hurricane or not, the family needed to eat. A seafood restaurant mere blocks away from the hotel offered them the perfect setting to sit and plan their next move. Booth tended to Alyssa while Brennan made call after call to track down the information she hadn't had the courtesy of being given. In the end they learned that Brennan's speech was taking place as scheduled. "The hurricane isn't supposed to make landfall until Saturday. The institute has made the decision not to rearrange their schedule until absolutely necessary." Brennan told Booth just as their food arrived. "However, I'm going to call the airport and see if we can't get our flight changed before then. If we can fly out safely then we'll leave as soon as tonight."

She was put through a regular phone tree from hell. Alyssa was fussy, therefore giving Booth quite a challenge in trying to feed her. Anytime a spoon of macaroni and cheese came near her mouth she'd turn her head away. "Come on. I know that ice cream didn't fill you up." Time and time again she refused. Brennan could see though trying his best to be patient he was losing his temper. "Give her some time." She encouraged with her cell still pressed to her ear. "You should eat before your own dinner gets cold." While forced on hold she'd been nibbling at her order.

Less than thrilled he seemed with that idea as well. She kept a mindful eye on him as he occasionally allowed a bite here and there. For the most part his attention remained glued on their daughter. Before she could press him further the airline guest service attendant arrived back on the line. Another five minutes passed before Brennan slammed her phone down onto the table in disgust. "Fifteen minutes it took them to tell me all flights are grounded until further notice?"

"So we're stuck here?"

"Until further notice." She heaved a sigh. "I suppose after we finish we should retrieve some supplies."

Fortunately their room was an interior one without the danger of any windows. From the restaurant they headed to a grocery store to stock up on non perishable foods, as well as common items such as candles, flashlights, batteries, and bottled water. Periodically Booth used the internet on his phone to read updates. "It's listed as a category two so it shouldn't be too bad, I wouldn't think. Maybe we won't be here much longer than we thought."

"It's a two now. That can quickly change as these storms travel, especially over water. There's no guarantee of its class by the time it reaches the coast. We need to plan accordingly."

"Yeah." He sighed. She scrutinized him much closer than she had previously. Something was off about him; a change in his behavior. This glimpse of the possible truth derived further than his disinterest in eating. This version of him was almost foreign to her. "You don't feel well, do you?"

"I wish you'd stop insisting there's something wrong with me." He retorted through grit teeth. His anger was startling. "I'm fine. I just didn't think we'd be here more than a week or so. I miss the twins."

She wouldn't deny him that. She too, missed their children. "I know. I'm sorry."

He chuckled. Within an instant his anger had evaporated. The tension in his body, which she hadn't taken notice of until that moment, eased. His personality turned straight around once again. "It's not your fault, Bones. I guess we'll be home soon enough."

His mood swings caught her off guard, to say the least. She didn't know what to make of them. "I really would like you to see a doctor when we get home."

This time he chose flat out ignorance of her concern. They finished shopping in silence. In unloading the cart onto the conveyer belt during check out she saw Booth had snuck in a bottle of aspirin during a time in which she hadn't been looking. Currently he was leaning against the push bar of the shopping cart. At Alyssa he kept contorting his face into weird expressions, bringing her into a fit of giggles with delight. Visibly to the naked eye nothing appeared to be out of place. Other than losing some weight he was bright eyed with a healthy glow to his outer appearance. But something within him was stirring up trouble; an internal hurricane of his own. _I wonder if I should see about getting him care here. _But she was unfamiliar with what sort of health care system was available on the island. Booth only deserved the best, and given all he'd been through she'd only allow top of the line treatment. _Would there be difficulty in getting his information back to the states if I did? _There was so much unknown to her. That was what brought about her own nightmares.

By the time they returned to the hotel night had crept in. The air was still calm without any hint of the oncoming storm. A full moon was making a gradual climb across the sky. Inside their room the two parents settled in for the night. Booth found storage for their supplies while Brennan sang Alyssa to sleep with a soothing song. The child drifted off clutching her stuffed bunny, as well as her mother's hand.

Their room was large enough that the bedroom was separate from what could be considered a "lounging" area. A television and a couch offered them privacy without waking their daughter. Brennan had tears in her eyes in sitting down next to Booth. "What is it?" He asked gently.

"I just feel as though I've hardly spent any time with her lately. I know it's not rational but its upsetting."

"Hey," he put an arm around her. "You've been busy with your speech. Tomorrow it will all be over. And then we'll likely be stuck in this room for days." He pointed out wryly. "We'll all have plenty of time to be together. Everything's going to be all right." He kissed her.

A simple kiss was all it took. That familiar ache took control of her southern region. It'd been entirely too long since they'd been intimate, and she missed him in every way possible. Her conscious memory flashed back to the last instance in when they'd tried for sex. She realized that had been the start of his transformation. She'd allowed that moment to slip past her without a second thought. The stomach flu. An easy excuse to buy. Now, she certainly wouldn't engage in intercourse with her daughter asleep in the next room. But that didn't mean that she couldn't trick Booth; play a game to determine how far his mystery went.

He wasn't permitted to pull away from her. She welcomed his embrace, distracting him with her heated passion while she seductively undid his shirt button by button. Once it was open she brushed her hand over the silky smooth feel of his skin. His body rose with attention. "We can't," he insisted in a weak whisper. "Not with-"

It didn't matter. Coercing him was not her intention. But she did twist sideways so as her shoulder blades pressed down on one of the couch cushions. Brazenly she tugged on him on top of her in a way so that his hips became wedged in between her spread legs. His arousal was more than obvious against her, so that clearly wasn't a problem. His composure was maintained until she tried to adjust him to a level in which their body parts were matched. Since he hadn't had time to properly acclimate his full body weight was crushed against her. The friction she caused in reaching for him brought forth the action she'd been seeking. He gasped a pained breath. His arm once again reeled back towards his ribs. With his weight no longer evenly distributed he landed down on the floor. The two of them shared eye contact. "We can't." Booth insisted again, as though it were an explanation for his behavior.

"I'm not a fool, Booth. You're in pain. I should have seen this sooner."

"I agreed to see a doctor when I get back!" He exclaimed. His face reddened with another bout of sudden anger. "What more do you want from me?"

"I want you to admit something is wrong! I know you. I've been through this with you! If you think you're trying to protect me then you need to stop. Right now. The sooner we explore this the better off you'll be!"

"Nothing's wrong! I'm starting to think you _want _something to be wrong with me!"

"What?" She was appalled. "What kind of logic is that?"

"I don't know! It isn't logical. But there's that… that syndrome!"

She exhaled. "Munchausen syndrome by proxy? That's… really trying to search for an excuse. Will you please trust me? I don't know if you are experiencing an abnormality in your mental or physical health. Perhaps your pain is no more than a figment of your imagination. But _something _is off kilter!"

"I'm fine!" The entire floor likely heard him. With an open palm he slammed his hand against the wall. "Just stop!"

Brennan could do no more than stare at him in shocked horror. She wasn't afraid of him, per se. More that she was afraid _for_ him. He too, seemed to beginning to realize the intensity of his outburst. The light in his eyes changed as he studied his hand which he hadn't moved from its resting spot.

"Mommy?" Alyssa called out from the bedroom. Her fearful tone was a painfully obvious clue that their shouting had woken her. Neither of them moved; the tension between them thick. Their daughter had to call for her mother a second time before Booth flew out the door in a single swift movement. Brennan wasn't exactly in a position to give chase. She wouldn't leave Alyssa and she certainly wouldn't bring her along with. Her attitude was defeated as she returned to the bedroom. "I'm here, sweetie." She turned back the sheets and crawled into bed. The child wiggled her way into her arms. For a long time she watched her before at last falling into a fitful sleep herself.

* * *

Booth was sound asleep on the couch when Brennan woke with Alyssa in the morning. She scanned his body for any signs of trauma; any indication of where he'd been overnight. Mostly he appeared unscathed. No apparent self harm. Relief set in. Now she could focus on the real emotion she was feeling. Anger.

Brennan ordered room service as opposed to going out for breakfast. Her speech was scheduled for early in the afternoon. She'd just assumed not have any distractions while she rehearsed. Booth entertained Alyssa in front of the television.

Much before Brennan felt prepared it was time for them to commute to the institution. They caught a cab. No words were spoken; the same silence having taken over their entire morning. Alyssa jabbered on in her own language. The child was completely unaware as to the frosty environment taking place between her parents, just as she should be.

Outside the venue the family readied to separate. "So we'll stay for a half an hour and then you'll meet us at the hotel when its over?" Booth questioned.

"That's what we agreed, yes."

"I don't think she'll pay attention much longer than that. Do you?"

He was trying to find reasons to talk to her. Brennan sniffed. "We discussed this, Booth. No."

When she attempted to turn away he stopped her. "Bones, I'm sorry, okay? I'm _really_ sorry."

She icily held his gaze without flinching. "You need help." Those being her final intended words she left him behind on the sidewalk, but not without frustrated tears in her eyes.


	113. The Approaching Storm

Alyssa remained true to her parents' prediction. After a mere twenty minutes on her father's lap in the audience she began to squirm. Booth had sat them in the front row so she'd have her mother in perfect view. Her father's consideration was wasted on her. When she began to talk loudly over her mother's amplified voice Booth knew it was time to leave. They were on their way out before anyone else really had the time to take notice.

The pair went outside back to the beach. For lack of a better idea Booth brought Alyssa to a playground not far from the hotel. In the midday sun it was already bustling with overactive children. Wary parents kept close observation, and Booth determined that a good portion of them were hoping to tire their youngsters out before the hurricane set in and they'd be banished to the indoors. The idle conversation he overheard proved him right.

He sat Alyssa down in one of the "baby" swings; a cone of rubber with holes for the child's legs to fit through. She held onto the chains with tight little fists while he gently pushed the swing forward. "Higher!" She commanded. Booth chuckled to himself. "Higher," he repeated, giving her only a smidge of a harder push. Just because Alyssa was a daredevil it didn't mean he had to humor her. Seeing as she already had a strong mind of her own he worried about the day in which he wouldn't be there to oversee her tendencies. He felt anxiety over knowing that she had a strong possibility of her emerging personality to mirror his own. His daughter would be just like him. Or who he used to be.

Following the swings they took a few rounds on the slide before she'd had enough. She frowned and rubbed her stomach. Booth noticed. "You tummy hurt?"

Back and forth she shook her head no.

"Hungry?"

That was the key word. A smile crossed her face with a nod. He carried her to the boardwalk where he bought her a hot dog. Next he located a table. Sitting them down, he removed the bun and cut the dog up into small pieces with ineffective plastic silverware. Another minute she was forced to wait as he cleaned her hands with baby wipes. "All right. Here you go."

She dug right in. Clouds were just rolling in over the land. Soon enough the storm would be making its presence known. The ocean waves had already increased in their height and volume with the change in wind. The hurricane would be nothing compared to the storm that was brewing between himself and Brennan. Being locked with her in a hotel room for a few days was not an activity that excited him. She'd made it very clear that she wasn't willing to forgive him for his outburst. Well, there wasn't much else he could do but apologize. Everything he'd said, he'd meant. As far as he could see she was blowing the matter out of proportion. So what if he had difficulty eating? Since his return from captivity that had been an issue. And so what if he felt pain every time they tried to engage in intercourse? That was new, but not highly unusual either. His body had been betraying him for years. Although the frustration he was experiencing as a result of it was definitely new. Still, there was no reason to rush off and see a doctor every time a new symptom popped up. If that was the case then he might as well live in a hospital affiliated institution.

He was highly against seeing a doctor. What was the point? Dr. Merck had declared him free of disease. There were no lumps; no spots of tenderness. In the end he supposed Brennan would win. But not before he fought tooth and nail for his perceived independence. His eyes wandered out to the choppy water. Perhaps he could go out during the hurricane and drown himself in it…

Sigh. Even sarcasm was depressing him. Alyssa asked for him. He saw she'd pushed her plate away. "Done."

From there he walked her back up and down the beach. She collected seashells, pressing each one into her father's hand. Each one had a particular flaw that seemed to catch her eye. Some were misshapen from being battered in the sea. Others were decorated with some of the brightest colors he'd ever seen in nature. By the time she tired out Brennan's speech had ended. Booth carried Alyssa back to their hotel room with their seashells. Sometime later while they were stuck inside he'd invent a project for the two of them; something to do to preserve her souvenirs.

Brennan was awaiting them in the room. No greeting was had. Booth set Alyssa down on the floor. "She already had lunch. How did your speech go?"

"It was pleasant. The question and answer session at the end brought up some interesting topics. I feel there are a few I need to do some research on."

He nodded. "Good. The hurricane's starting to roll in."

"I noticed. I'm relieved to see you back."

"It'll still be a bit before the real rains and winds come." He studied her as she watched Alyssa. "If you want to spend some alone time with her I thought I might go lay down for a while."

She seized on his words like a rabid wolf after the kill. "Are you not feeling well? Do you need me to acquire something for you? There's still time for me to run back to the store-"

"I'm not doing this again." He held up a hand to silence her. "I'm not having this fight again. I'm just tired, all right? That's it. And I thought you'd like some alone time with our daughter since I know you were feeling guilty about not being able to see her. But if you want we can go back out-"

It was her turn to interrupt him. "No. That's fine." She paused. "I wish you'd hear me, Booth."

"Yeah well," he turned his back on her. "The feeling's mutual. I wish you'd listen to me." He treated into the sleeping area. Before laying down he swallowed a few aspirin. A tough headache was beginning to develop. No doubt it was an effect from the change in air pressure from the hurricane, and the heavy tension between himself and Brennan. Not to mention what he'd done to his back by sleeping on the couch the night before.

Sleep hit him like a sledgehammer. Nothing punctured his conscious until a few hours had passed and he woke to an empty room. His joints popped in aggravated protest as he crawled out from bed. A wave of dizziness near dropped him down onto his knees. All right. He'd had nothing to eat. He'd rose rather fast from where he'd been laying. Instead of moving forward he sat back down. As much as he wanted to prove Brennan wrong he was beginning to wonder if there wasn't some truth to her thoughts. But no. It was illogical. Dr. Merck had declared him well. He'd given him a clean bill of health. Brennan had spoken to him. His life had only improved since the diagnosis.

But something was still nagging away at his thoughts. Since he had privacy he made a phone call to the doctor's office. A receptionist took his information sealed with a promise that she would have the doctor call him just as soon as he was available.

Booth tried to continue about without letting it weigh down his mind. Brennan returned just around dinner time. "I thought I'd order room service rather than eat out." She explained, as though her arrival needed some clearing up.

It was a trap. Booth reared back with a sudden sense of paranoia. She was willing to do anything to prove him wrong. Anything to get her way. His eyes narrowed. "Fine. Do whatever you want. But I'm not hungry. You're not going to force anything on me."

The bite in his voice surprised her. "I didn't plan to." She insisted earnestly. The darkness that had swept up his features spiked her pulse. "Booth, what is it?"

"Nothing. I just know what you're trying to do. I'm not fighting about it anymore."

"'I'm not trying to do anything. I wanted all three of us to spend time together. This entire trip its seemed you and I have only spent time with Alyssa as opposed to all of us as a family. That was all I wanted." She scanned her eyes over the length of him. "Why are you so angry?"

He wanted to find solace in her words but he just couldn't. The fight yesterday and her dismissal of his apology that morning made him sure she was conducting some sort of conspiracy against him. No longer did he trust her. Yet before he could say anything his phone rang. Dr. Merck was at last returning his call. He excused himself outside to have a private conversation away from her eavesdropping ears. "Booth."

"It's Dr. Merck. You left a message for me?"

"Yeah. Look, I've had some… changes, I guess, lately in my body." Booth strolled up and down the hallway while he spoke. "Nothing that's no big deal. But Bones? She's basically pushing me to come see you."

"Oh. Well if you wanted to make an appointment my receptionist-"

"No. I think she's overreacting. I mean, you said my last biopsy was fine, right? That I was in the clear?"

There was a delayed pause. "No. I never said that. Your results, along with hundreds of others, were lost in a lab fire. I never had anything definitive on your condition. I relayed this to your wife months ago."

Booth stopped pacing. His shoulders fell back against a wall. The blood drained from his face. "She told me you said I was fine. Are you saying she lied to me?"

"That's a personal matter. What I am telling you is that I've never had anything conclusive regarding your health. Now, if you're enduring anything out of the ordinary you should-"

He didn't bother listening to the rest. The phone was clicked off in the middle of Dr. Merck's speech. Brennan had lied to him. For all he knew Dr. Merck wasn't being truthful, either. They all were out to get him. To kill him.

"Booth?" The door to their hotel room opened. Having felt he'd been absent long enough, Brennan left their daughter in front of the television with a movie to find him. She approached, only to be stopped in her tracks by one of the most hateful looks she'd ever seen anyone give. Her entire body turned to ice. "Booth? What's wrong?"

"You lied to me."


	114. Had It Coming

Brennan was frozen solid. She couldn't move. She wasn't sure she could think straight. Out of all the events in her life she was prepared for concerning him, this one had escaped her mind. How could she have ever thought he wouldn't find out of her fabrication? Why had she made such a silly assumption that she'd be safe; free? Even staring into his rage filled eyes she didn't regret her decision. These past few months had been blissful, though they were based on a lie. "Booth-"

"So what was your plan? Just let me get sick? Watch me die? Is that what you wanted? To just… to let me die?"

In addition to paralysis she was now completely breathless. "No. How could you think that?"

"How could I think that? You lied to me! You've let me go on believing all this time that I was fine. You _told me _I was fine!"

"I did that so you'd be happier!" She finally raised her voice to match his. "So _we'd _be happier! And its worked. Booth," she gripped his arm to fully illustrate her point. "Look at all you've done. All you've accomplished. We wouldn't be here if you'd still been in limbo. You would have suspended yourself until we had concrete answers, which we haven't been able to have." _You would have stopped trying. You wouldn't have come back to me like you have._

He twisted out of her grasp. "No. I don't believe you. What else are you hiding from me? Is there some big plot against me? For all I know Dr. Merck's in on it and you're _both _lying to me!"

She was close to tears. The man standing in front of her with the wild, lit eyes was not her husband; not the father of her children. Most certainly not the man she'd spent a good portion of her life with. He wasn't even the one he'd been when he'd first returned from his abduction. His sudden burst of paranoia was near driving him mad. "Something _is _wrong with you. But I don't know what. When we get home you're going to see-"

"I'm not seeing anybody. I'm fine, and you're not going to convince me otherwise."

The door to their hotel room opened behind Brennan. Alyssa poked her head out. Having overheard her parents' raised voices she had becoming overwhelmingly frightened. "Momma?" The emotion was there in her voice.

As much as she detested it she left Booth to stew in his anger. Until they were home side there was little she could do for him. Fighting would only lead them in circles, as it had been. Booth needed greater help than she could provide. But first and foremost she needed to break through his altered psyche to see that. "Yes, sweetie." She returned to her daughter. "Come on. Lets go put on another movie for you."

Booth didn't follow them.

* * *

For three days the hurricane tore its way across the island. Though it was relatively low on the destruction scale it still left damage and havoc in its wake. Amazingly those who stayed inside their hotel remained safe. The power flickered at most but remained on. All had been done to prevent inconvenience to the hotel's guests. Brennan was more than appreciative. Stuck in a hotel room with a small child wasn't ideal. But at least there were more ways to keep her engaged than there would have been had they been sitting in the dark.

Booth was on a constant rotation with his comings and goings. Brennan never knew where he journeyed to, and she never asked. All she knew was that during the overnight hours he'd float back into bed with her. In the darkest hours she could pretend that he was hers, and that all was well between them. He wouldn't protest when she snuggled up to his chest. If she dared attempt a kiss the affection was mutual. But come morning he would only linger for so long before he was gone again.

"His mental state has really altered itself while we've been here." She told Dr. Merck over a distressed call. "He's suspicious over every detail. He no longer trusts either one of us. For hours at a time he's off by himself. I have no idea where he goes. I haven't seen any signs of self harm." She'd been spending her forced free time doing research on the internet. All she could find on Booth's symptoms pointed straight to one truth. A truth she wasn't ready to admit to herself.

"It sounds like he needs to be evaluated."

"I don't think I will be able to get him to come see you. He's just as distrustful of you as he is me."

Dr. Merck's response was immediate. "Then take him to the hospital. Call paramedics, if you have to. Say he's a danger to himself. You don't know that he isn't." He reminded her.

Doing such a thing disturbed her. But if it needed to be done then she'd see to it. "I don't plan on doing anything until we come home. But I will look into my options from there."

"I understand. But the sooner he gets help, the better. Don't let this fester, Dr. Brennan."

She hung up feeling just as lost as she had before she'd phoned him.

Booth returned just as she was settling Alyssa on the couch for a nap. The child's eyes were already closed. Brennan was tucking a blanket around her when he silently went into the bed area without casting her a single glance. A portion of her was reluctant but chose to follow after him anyway.

He'd dropped his shirt onto the floor besides his discarded shoes. Across the bed he laid on his back. His eyes were already shut. Brennan stretched herself out besides him. "Booth," she spoke his name quietly in hopes she had his attention without any unbridled paranoia.

Seconds passed before his eyes opened. His head tilted to look at her. She still had questions for him though his eyes answered a few on their own. "I never meant to hurt you," she tried telling him. "I received information and did what I thought was best with it at the time. We'll always differ on whether that was correct or incorrect. I love you, and I just wanted you to feel some sort of sense of happiness again. Every day you are deprived of it I feel as though I am, as well. And I know feelings of pleasure are difficult for you to find. You've been self deprecating for too long. You owe yourself so much more than what you give yourself. So that's all I wanted for you. Some optimism. Some light in your otherwise darkened world." She tenderly laid a hand on his cheek. "I know you can be happy, Booth. I've seen it in you. I know the births of our children were some of the best days of your life. I know marrying me ranks up there, along with being reinstated at the bureau. But I've also seen that happiness taken away from you." Her throat tightened with the tears she was holding back. "I can accept your anger. I can accept it taking your time to forgive me. Perhaps you never will, as I am not the least bit sorry for what I did. But something else is threatening to take away your happiness right now. Something that I can't explain and I can't prevent. You need help. I will go down fighting for you. But you have to let me. Your life rests on your trust in me. And I know despite your confusion and anger somewhere inside of you, you do. You remember. So please." Her eyes searched his. "Please find that now."

He said nothing, but instead closed the space between them and kissed her. That sign of love said more than anything he could have said. His arm encircled her waist. Down onto her shoulder he buried his head. She stroked her fingers through his short hair. For hours they lay together.

* * *

Yet he refused to secede. That Monday following their return home he was readying for work long before Brennan had even woken. He slipped out into the predawn light. Truthfully he was unsure of why he was work bound, only that it was a routine he was supposed to follow. So he did. Maybe lodged in the depths of his mind he knew this was all wrong. He was wrong, and work should not have been a priority. But an all too familiar voice was egging him on. _What are you going to do? Stay home and wait for her to take advantage of you? You're stronger than that. She'll just force you into the doctor's appointment. Or worse, the hospital. No one is making you do anything! _

He was in his office long before any of his colleagues began to make their appearances. Another long day full of crime was laid out ahead of them. Booth immersed himself in paperwork he'd set aside while he impatiently waited for an assignment. The trouble was the forms referred to the last case in which he'd wrapped up before leaving for Aruba. The once clear as day details were foggy to him now. He squinted at the question and answer portion sitting in front of them. Were these new? _Yes. They're trying to trick you. Can't you see they want you out? They're threatened by you._

And the biggest threat of all chose to march through his door at precisely that moment. Carrey sneered. "Back so soon? I was hoping the hurricane would leave you grounded for a few more days."

Booth just stared. _He's trying to get you. He's after your career, and Bones._

"Don't have anything to say to me? That's a first."

Booth turned his attention back to studying the forms. His vision unfocused before fine tuning itself again. His brow furrowed as he eyes near bore holes into the paper. The words might as well have been written in another language. None of it made sense to him.

Carrey was taking obvious delight in his confusion. "What? Can't you remember how to do your own job? You never should have come back from Aruba, Booth. You never were good at knowing when to quit, but now you're just becoming laughable. You're an absolute joke."

_He's turned the other agents against you. Soon it'll be your superiors. He won't stop until you're out of a job. He'll oust you and make a play for Bones. _Booth sprung to his feet. The well of anger was building up to its cusp and readying to spill over.

"Oh, am I upsetting you? About time you grew a set. Temperance can do so much better than you. For some reason I can't figure out you're living the life _I _should have." The agent faced Booth directly, so that they were mere inches apart from one another. "That bitch should have killed you."

Booth's sight turned bright red. A steam whistling sound blew between his ears. His conscious took a step back while someone else took control. Carrey was punched down onto the ground. The man never had a chance to recover as Booth rained down a series of blows to his face and body. He didn't stop until someone had their hands under his arm pits tugging him away. By then Carrey was almost unrecognizable from the fight. He lay on the floor, coughing.

"Take it easy, man." Someone was clapping Booth's heaving shoulders. Others had rushed to their aid. His head fell into his hands as he heard a response to someone's call for an ambulance. The voice in his head only had two words for him. _You're screwed._

And yet he couldn't feel entirely guilty for what he'd done.


	115. Just Before

Brennan struggled all day to keep her thoughts away from all things pertaining to Booth. Waking up alone had put her in an irritable mood. She knew he'd gone to work, and she knew he'd left before she'd woken because otherwise she would have put a stop to him. Since he hadn't come flouncing into her office with an assignment she busied herself with other work to be caught up on. A scholarly journal had requested an article detailing her speech in Aruba, as well as the experience of muddling through a hurricane. Once she sat down to begin writing she realized she'd wished the storm had stirred up trouble of her kind; remains, a murdered corpse, etc. She would have liked to have spent more time on the island. Then again, with Booth's troubles perhaps it was a good thing they came straight home. She'd be having a talk with him that evening. Much needed to be discussed.

Her entry was pushed aside as remains found dug deep in the artic snow arrived. Ancient remains, requiring her expertise and immediate attention. It'd been so long since she'd able to enjoy an old love (anthropology that wasn't rooted in current events and murder) that she'd dove in whole heartedly. Before she knew it the evening had arrived. Others were heading home. Brennan fired a quick text message to Booth. She had no intention of leaving just yet.

The hours tolled on. Personnel dispersed. Security lessened. Brennan was isolated in a room with bone storage when she heard a hesitant knock on the open door. Booth was standing before her when she paused to look up. "Hi." She straightened. "I didn't realize how late it was."

"I brought you food." He extended a brown paper sack. She accepted it. "Lets go into my office. I can take a break."

"I would have thought you'd be coming home soon." They walked side by side through the lab. "Your dad agreed to watch the kids so I could come over. I figured if your ancient iceman was holding so much of your attention you probably hadn't eaten."

She smiled. He sounded so much like his old self; not the stranger he'd been in Aruba. "Yes. I appreciate it. Thank you." Unlocking her door, she turned on a light as she let them inside. Booth right away sat himself down on her couch. "I needed to talk to you, anyway."

Her previously growling stomach turned to stone. She sat down at her desk. "What is it?" For the first time she noticed his bandaged hand. "Did you injure yourself?"

He exhaled. "I think… I think I got fired today."

"What?" She was stunned.

"Carrey came in to my office first thing this morning and started messing with me. I couldn't take it anymore, Bones. I just lost my cool and I attacked him." Something indescribable marred his expression. "He was taken to the hospital. I screwed up my hand. I've been "suspended without pay" until further review but I'm sure I'm fired."

"But that's not fair! Booth, he's been bullying you since you were reinstated! We'll speak with Hacker. I'll go with you-"

"No, Bones. I don't think there's much that can be done. There's only so many second chances I can be given until it's not fair to the other agents. I'm done." He shrugged his shoulders.

"Then I'm quitting, too."

"Bones." He didn't mask his disapproval.

"No, I mean it. Booth, there's no me without you. This morning remains arrived that for once, weren't derived from murder. They are from thousands of years ago. Not only do they need studying but verification, as well as a multitude of other responsibilities. I've done my time solving crime. Without you it holds no purpose. We can light others on fire now."

He hadn't understood what she was referring to. "You mean pass the torch?"

"Yes." Her meal was forgotten as she stood before him. Her hands rested gently on his shoulders. "And I can do this job anywhere, Booth. We don't necessarily have to stay here."

"I don't want you changing your life for me." Again, something unseen passed over him. He let out a long, pent up breath. His brow furrowed.

"It's a new adventure. This is all conjecture, anyway. It's possible that the bureau will stand behind you. Other agents witnessed this? I'm sure they will be interviewed. Before we plan lets see what happens."

"It's possible, but unlikely." He rubbed one of her hands affectionately. "You should go eat before it gets cold."

Where had this man been hiding? She kissed him before moving about back to her desk. He slumped against the back of the couch. His eyes wandered out into the darkened lab area. Her attempts at appeasing his mind had been futile. Much seemed to be heavily weighing on his shoulders. Brennan wondered if there was more he wasn't telling her. "C'mere." She invited.

A few moments passed before he stood. He went to her desk like a child being punished in school. She didn't rise from her chair, but instead tugged his shirt to bring his face down towards hers. There, she kissed him. "Whatever happens, Booth. It will all be all right. We'll always have each other, and the children. We'll be all right."

"I just keep letting you down."

For a second time she went in for a kiss. There was nothing he could have ever done to let her down. He was a fighter through and through. These days she was unsure of what she could say or do to relay that to him. To her he would always be a hero. _Her _hero.

Their kiss lasted long a tad longer than the run of the mill one commonly shared by a husband and wife. She could feel his entire body soften with muted emotion. Sexual frustration chose to overrule her rational level headedness. Her movements were made with careful planning. There was no way she wanted to lose out on his rare enthusiasm. Over her clothes she guided his hand anywhere she desired it to go. For the two it was so primary, and yet at the same time erotic. To feel something more than a friendly touch from him was enough to get her pulse racing. He only heightened her excitement by leaving tender love bites on her neck while breathing in her ear. She led his hand down past her hips. Softly she moaned when his fingers danced along the spot she'd been seeking.

"You all right, Dr. Brennan?"

The two jumped. The chair rolled forward. Their hips bumped into one another's. Brennan had to keep herself from letting out another sound of pleasure just at the feeling of his arousal against her. An animal was taking her over; an animal that wanted him. "Yes." She cleared her throat as her answer was wavered. "We're fine, thank you."

The security guard moved on. Booth's eyes were lingering on their fully clothed attached hips. "How long until he comes back?"

Her first instinct was to protest. This was her _office. _A public place. She couldn't. And yet she surprised herself by telling him, "they make rounds every half an hour. But we can't-"

"Just trust me." Her objections were lost on his lips. Anyone who happened to notice the two in Brennan's office never would have guessed without closer inspection the hijinks they were up to. Booth had undressed them as little as necessary. He stooped over her, adjusting the chair to match the rhythm of his hips. Without any pressure being placed directly on his torso he was freer to move about without the hindrance of pain.

They climaxed together. Her hands clenched a hold of his tightened arm muscles. She laughed as she struggled to get her breath back. "Where… have you… been?"

"What do you mean?"

She touched his face. "You haven't been you, Booth. I don't know how to explain it. But you've been… out of character. In Aruba I certainly never thought we'd be engaging in intercourse so soon upon being home."

"I told you I'm fine." He kissed her forehead. _Just keep telling yourself that. You're full of lies. Keep the cover up going. _Around he looked for the source of the voice he was hearing. He glanced back to Brennan. Wasn't she hearing it? _Of course she hears me. She's just ignoring it. She's playing a game. Toying with you. You need to win. Keep denying anything's wrong._

"Booth?" It'd been minutes since he'd spoken. A glaze had formed over his eyes. In hearing his name his attention was returned to her. "Sorry," he offered her a boyish smile.

"Everything all right?"

"Yeah. I love you." He kissed her again. "I probably should be getting back. Although I think your dad likes babysitting."

"Then maybe we should allow him to do it more often." Brennan straightened her clothes as she sat up. "Maybe this weekend."

"Maybe," he agreed in the same forlorn voice he'd arrived with. Brennan frowned. Now with the endorphins wearing off that sadness was creeping back into his spirit. "I mean it, Booth. We will have a plan for whatever happens. Should you be fired it isn't an ending. We'll put it to work as a new beginning."

"Thanks, Bones. I'll see you at home. Don't stay too late." With a last kiss he was out the door. Brennan's eyes remained with him until he was no longer visible. Her food, which of course had gone cold, awaited her. The small token had been all the encouragement she'd needed. No matter what happened to Booth they'd see a way through it. She'd never been so sure of them.


	116. During

Booth may have been suspended from work, but he was still up with Brennan at the sound of her alarm first thing the following morning. After turning it off she rotated in bed to face him. Tiredly her head fell down onto his chest. "I could delay preparing for the day," were her first words to him. She kissed his bare skin. Their love making the night before had only worsened her craving for him, despite the release. If it hadn't of been so late when she'd arrived home she likely would have sought him for a second round. But he'd been asleep and hadn't stirred at her arrival. She'd let him be.

"What about your iceman?"

"He won't melt." She kissed lower. His soft laugh made her happy. Had they broken ground last night? Maybe Aruba had been a fluke. Maybe some sort of environmental factor had played into his dramatic change of personality. Maybe he was allergic to something on the island? Her explanations weren't feasible. They didn't even make sense. Since he had settled back into his old ways she decided to worry about it some other time. Although she still planned on heavily pushing him into seeing a doctor; Dr. Merck.

Her mouth and tongue were tasting his abdomen when he brought her back to his level for a kiss. To make up for the change her touch replaced her mouth's previous embrace. Her hands kneaded his body much like a baby kitten would their mother. Booth was responsive. Eager, even. He pushed himself up onto his side without breaking apart from her. She shivered to feel him reach over her chest to dip his hand under the v neck of her nightgown. Tenderly he cupped the sensitive area of her breast. With a gentle sigh she squeezed the area over his ribs that she'd been stroking. So much more she wanted from him.

Only his gasp wasn't one of restrained passion. It was one of pain. He unintentionally recoiled away from her. The movement was so exaggerated that he slipped from the bed onto the floor. Brennan sat up in surprise. She switched on a light before peering over his edge of the bed. "Booth?"

His arm was glued tightly to his side, his usual indicator of phantom pain. Red faced, he was panting lightly. Dazed eyes stared back up into hers. Brennan frowned. This was just as he'd been every other time they'd attempted sex. Why had last night been so different? Because it was her office? Was he associating negativity with their bedroom? If that was the case (which she doubted), why? They'd shared plenty of experiences there. There should have been no correlation between evil and love. And if for some strange reason there was, why now?

"Yeah." He breathed. "I'm all right."

He was a liar. But her inquiry got the best of her. Was the sex the previous night enjoyable because he'd been upright? That had been the only change. She lowered herself from the bed just as he was getting his bearings back. From the floor she pushed him onto his feet straight up against their bedroom wall. She used her mouth as a weapon while she undressed the both of them. The distraction continued as she whirled them in a circle so that she was the one pressing her back on the wall. She got his body as tight to hers as she could. To her delight he kissed the flesh on her arm before lifting the both of them over her head. A single hand hooked her wrists together. He held them in place as he entered her. She was only happy to remain in his confine.

While they had sex she found it difficult to pay as close of attention as she would have liked. Her overloaded mind acknowledged that again, he was willing to engage with her as long as he was standing up. She took notice that his opposite hand was pushing against the wall, seemingly for balance. Only she knew better. Judging by how his forearm and elbow were guarding his side, he was protecting his body. Favoring his ribs. Beyond that all rational thought ceased. Her body betrayed her with an overwhelming wave of pleasure. Multiple ones, in fact. She nearly fell to the floor when they finished. Instead she tipped forward into his arms. Her body bumped into his side. Again he was hissing.

_The endorphins should have numbed him. _She led him to the bed where they laid together and simultaneously tried to relax. One of the twins suddenly howled for attention, which naturally woke the other and prompted Alyssa to call out for her father. The two parents looked at one another in exasperation. Well, at least they'd gotten their time in together.

Booth remained on her mind while she tended to the twins. Once they'd been changed and successfully rocked back to sleep she drifted downstairs where Booth was preparing breakfast for Alyssa. She was jabbering away to him about a puppy she'd seen, in her dreams by the sound of it. "Maybe one will be waiting for you on your birthday," he mused. Her eyes enlarged with excitement. "Puppy!" She squealed at Brennan.

Brennan tousled her daughter's hair and kissed her forehead. "Did you want to shower first and I will take over here?"

"No. You should. You're already running late for work. I'm obviously not going anywhere."

Since his back was to her she sidled behind him. Her arms encircled him, again purposefully applying pressure to his rib cage. She felt him jerk though her remained in her arms. "I'm not going to work, Booth. I've allowed you into fooling me into thinking you're fine, when you aren't. Nothing's changed. We're going to the doctor."

"Bones, no. I'm not going. They aren't going to tell us the truth."

The paranoia was back. She rested her palms against his sides. "Booth-"

"I can't trust them. I can't trust anyone." He backed away from her. "I can't trust you. You plotted this whole thing, didn't you? You're still like them. Against me." His eyes shifted away from her. A strange cloud formed in them. To Brennan it appeared as though he were listening to someone who wasn't there; didn't exist. She felt a chill of fright. "No. No one is against you. You're earnestly believing non sense. This is why you need to receive medical help. I think we should just go to the hospital."

"No. I refuse. You can't make me do anything, all right?" He shot past her. She heard his footfall up the stairs into their bedroom. Wearily she sighed. How was she to do this? Dr. Merck had suggested she dial for paramedics. Was that the route to take? What if Booth became violent? His behavior wasn't predictable. Alyssa was fed while she mauled over her decision. They'd only just finished when for a second time the twins began crying, also likely hungry by now. Brennan took Alyssa upstairs with her. She set her down on the nursery floor. The twins were enough for her not to notice the child slip away.

Alyssa wandered into her parents' bedroom. An open duffel bag was laying on their bed. Her father paced to and fro, putting clothes and other items inside. Sideways she tilted her head. She may have been a young child but she was instinctive enough to know something wasn't right. "Daddy?"

He stopped. His face melted into a tired smile. "Hi, sweetie. What are you doing up here?" This was a sight he didn't want her seeing. Alyssa's innocence was one of the few truths he still had faith in. Yes, he intended on leaving but he planned on returning for her. First he had to find a safe haven. Or so his mind was ordering him. _She's just a child now, but if you don't remove her she'll turn against you. _The voice was so familiar. Female. Where did he know it from? Along she came with a blinding pain. He cradled his forehead.

When the sensation hit him he was unable to feel little more than dread. That pain transitioned into a fuzzy light headedness. A strange pulsating sound blot out his hearing. He knew well what was coming. Slowly he lowered himself to the ground. "Lissie? Go get mommy." The woman he was just scorning was now the only one he wanted.

Alyssa didn't take the seriousness in her father's words lightly. She ran out of the room. Brennan returned alone just in time to see Booth fall victim to a grand mal seizure. Down to her knees she dropped to hold him in her arms. His body's spasms were some of the worst she'd ever seen. He moaned, which was a symptom she'd never seen him exhibit. One of his legs continuously pressed down on the carpet before kicking out. Booth's seizure was a battle.

Minutes carried on before his body finally quit. He came to a rest, limp as a rag doll. Brennan fought tears. Booth obviously had seizures from time to time as a result of the brain damage he'd received during his time in captivity. But they've never been so intense. Or severe. "Booth," she whispered to him. Hours would pass before he'd return, she knew. But she couldn't help saying his name, trying to encourage a faster motion of the process. Sending for her during his bout of paranoia told her there was still trust inside him. His mind hadn't yet completely dissuaded the trueness of their relationship.

After a while she left him to rest on the floor with a pillow behind his head and more fluffiness protecting the area around him like an egg. She retrieved her phone and made a call in the privacy of the kitchen. Dr. Merck wasn't immediately available. So during the wait she returned to the bedroom. Down besides Booth she sat and waited. And waited. And waited some more. Booth continued sleeping off his experience. His muscles tensed and nervously expected him to lapse into another seizure. Luckily, after a few seconds he let go. The tension was gone.

The phone's shrill ring made her jump. She answered and let Dr. Merck say little before relaying the entire situation to him. She unabashedly told him of their sexual encounter, and the way his behavior had changed on a dime directly there after. The seizure she saved for last. "What should I do? He has epilepsy. This is unexpected but not uncommon. But then again his episodes had never results in such a fierce response."

The line was silent. When the doctor spoke his usual gruff voice was replaced with a caring tone. "I think you know what needs to be done, Dr. Brennan. I think you're just putting it off."

"Hospitalization." She sighed.

"Bring him to the emergency room. Get him evaluated."

"I just didn't want that for him." She admitted.

"Something is causing these symptoms. Maybe its something simple as a sudden imbalance that needs to be controlled with medication. We won't know until you bring him in. I'm on staff today. We'll get right on it."

She reluctantly agreed.

* * *

_Booth was too weak to move. He couldn't breathe. His face alternated between flushing hot and cold. Nausea had saliva near dripping from his mouth. He lay forward on his stomach on a cement floor._

"_Guess what?" A voice sneered over him._

_He shut his eyes tightly._

"_I'm back."_


	117. The After

Booth remained unconscious for the duration of the ambulance ride to the hospital. His tranquil face was the last image she had of him as they were separated in the emergency room. His serenity she viewed as both a blessing and a curse. She was happy he wasn't feeling any anguish, but the danger that had led him there displeased her. It bothered her more to realize that if he happened to wake while being treated she wouldn't be near him. If he struggled she wouldn't be there to bring him a sense of calmness and a touch of familiarity. Then again, considering how he was behaving around her it seemed that she too, could have been deemed worthless. With a sigh she collapsed down in a chair to wait.

Hours passed, leaving her alone with too many flittering thoughts. She'd about tired herself out by the time she spotted Dr. Merck striding towards her. "He's awake, and he's been struggling with us through every step." He said by way of apology. "The talk is of admitting him to the psych unit. I'm doing my best to veto that plan."

"The psych unit?" She repeated. "Why would he go there? The paranoia?"

Dr. Merck nodded. "He's said some… we'll say "unique" things while he's been in observation. Were you aware he's hearing voices? Actually, not "voices." Just one voice."

Brennan thought back to their argument that morning in the kitchen. "I had an inkling, but I had no certainty." She grimaced. "He's hearing Amanda."

"That's what its coming across as. Unlike my colleagues I don't believe his condition is psychological."

"You think he has a brain tumor." She closely studied his face for any reaction. His expression remained coldly reserved. "So do you." He accused. In shame she hung her head. Those had been her thoughts since she'd done research on his symptoms. It'd been yet another reason why she'd drug her heels bringing him in for treatment. Hearing such a diagnosis would wound a part of her she presumed was untouchable. Unbreakable. The emotional trauma her spirit had been through had healed once Booth had gone into remission. She'd put herself through it again - she'd do anything for him. But being forced to admit that their efforts at finding a cure had been in vain would inflict the kind of damage and sense of defeat she wasn't sure she was ready to face.

"Just stay here. I'll see if they've finished with his remaining scans. If they are I'll let you come see him." Dr. Merck was off without another word. His departure barely registered to her addled mind.

Some twenty minutes later he returned for her. Wordlessly he indicated for her presence. She followed him through the emergency room into a private room where Booth had been left to rest. Hate reflected in his tired, weathered eyes. Everyone was to know of his wrath. Against his will he'd been brought in, and there would be no forgetting it.

"We had to sedate him."

Brennan looked to Dr. Merck in surprise. Sporadically before them Booth trembled with pent up emotions. His muscles were stretched tight. "And he still is capable of that much energy?"

"Yes. Hence why we had to calm him. He woke up ready to fight. If you want to remain with him I'll be back with news as soon as I can. I have to caution you to be careful. I don't know where you stand in his circle of trust at the moment."

"I'll be fine." She entered his room. Every confidence in the world did she have that Booth would do nothing to harm her. He never had, and she couldn't foresee that ever changing. "How are you?" She greeted.

"You shouldn't have brought me here." He seethed. "They've been testing on me."

"They're trying to discover what your ailment is. Booth, something is very wrong with you. I know you don't see it. But trust me that I do." She tried to reach for his hand only to have him jerk it away. Dr. Merck was right. If Booth had such a thing as a "circle of trust," she was far from inside it. "Trust? You did this." He gestured to the room around them. He was about to continue his rant when his face went void of any expression. His eyes stared off into space without blinking. If there was an "off" switch someone had found it. Then as though nothing had happened he continued. "You let them treat me like an animal."

There was nothing more to say, nothing more he'd accept. She chose to sit down in a chair at his bedside instead. Until he was ready she'd wait. Eventually he would tire himself out. Perhaps then he'd be more receptive to the truth.

Another few hours passed. Brennan excused herself more than once to call and check on the children. She'd been fortunate that their nanny had been available at such short notice. The woman reported that all seemed to be fine, except Alyssa was out of sorts. Brennan had shielded her from seeing Booth get taken away on a stretcher. Even still "daddy's girl" seemed to instinctively know something was amiss.

Brennan was on her way back into Booth's room from having made one of those said phone calls when Dr. Merck sought her out in the hall. "I'm glad I caught you here privately. I've reviewed enough of his results to make an affirmative diagnosis." His tone lowered an octave. "I'm so sorry."

"Brain tumor." She whispered.

"Yes, as well as another on the muscles by the left side of his rib cage, and another on his abdomen. You spoke of sexual intercourse being painful for him over the phone. That's likely why. The pressure was too much to handle while lying down."

She was still trying to accept his first statement. "He's sick again. The cancer is no longer in remission."

"I will biopsy before I make a stance either way. Tumors don't have to always be malignant. But I know given his history it seems more than likely. Right now my course of treatment is to recommend chemo and radiation therapy."

"Why wouldn't you just do immediate surgery?" Brennan was startled. It seemed late in the game to be starting out with that plan of attack.

"I can do so for the other two tumors but the one on his brain…" He hesitated. "It's operable, but it's in a sensitive area. It's dangerous. I just assume attempt to shrink it with alternative therapy before doing anything rash. If that's what the two of you decide you'd rather do I can perform the surgery. But time is of the essence so whatever decision you make needs to be soon." He noticed her unspoken question in her eyes. "It's metastasizing rapidly. Without any treatment… I'd be shocked if in a month he still remembers who you are."

She couldn't help gasping. "Do you think he knew?" Had she been allowing him to waste precious time once again?

"No. His brain is so mixed up that I think he just accepted what was happening as normal. He lost the ability to tell the difference. For that reason I know telling him isn't going to be easy. I prefer you are with me when I deliver the news."

"Of course."

In the end the truth of the matter was Dr. Merck could have had the pope informing Booth of his condition, and he still wouldn't have accepted it without resistance. "You're lying. It's not true. You just want to keep me here so you can continue running your tests on me. You want to kill me."

"I have x-rays and other evidence that backs up my findings. I could show you." Dr. Merck offered.

"It's probably doctored. For all I know they're not even mine."

"Are you saying you're refusing treatment?"

"You're not doing anything to me. I'm not staying here." He savagely removed the IV needle that had been plugged into his arm.

"Booth, if you leave, if you don't pursue some sort of line of defense against these tumors you'll be essentially committing suicide."

"I don't believe you." In trying to push himself up out of bed his mind ached as though it'd been beaten around with a baseball bat. He sat down on the edge, cradling his head. Brennan seized the opportunity as her moment. She bent down in front of him. "Booth, who's telling you we're wrong? Is it Amanda?" He became very still. She continued. "Would you really believe her? After she tortured you nearly to death? Whatever she's telling you isn't correct. She wanted you dead. Do you remember?"

He gave her no confirmation. But his anxiety induced movements were slowed. She'd punctured his protective coating. Now she had to see him the rest of the way. She pulled Dr. Merck aside. "I'm his proxy. Couldn't I just overrule him and insist treatment?"

"He's conscious. We'd have to prove he's of an unfit mind, which obviously he is. But doing so would use up valuable time."

She paused to think. "Then I'm going to take him home. Give me a few days with him. I'm sure I can make him comprehend his situation."

"With all due respect Dr. Brennan, the tumor is responsible for his delusion. Nothing to say is going to change that."

"I know. But I know us. We've defied the odds before. I'm unwilling to believe that we won't be able to do so now. Just a few days. That's all I'll need."

"It's your choice," he grumbled. "I can't keep either one of you here. But I'm warning you. Time is not something he has an excess of."

His bluntness terrified her. But she wouldn't be put off. Their love had pulled off incredible feats. It would see them through again.

* * *

"_Did you miss me?"_

_Booth rolled onto his back. Deadened eyes stared up expectantly at the woman standing over him. He spoke no words. He wasn't sure he was capable of them._

"_I brought some friends with me this time. And some help." Amanda dropped down onto her knees besides him. She extended her hand. Tucked in her palm was a multi-striped pill. "Take this, and you'll feel better. I promise."_

_His gaze flicked from her face to her hand. "Why should I trust you?"_

"_Because I am going to keep you alive. So long as you give me yourself, you'll live. Think of it this way. Can you really trust anyone out there in your life? Those joke doctors? Your wife who had you abducted in your sleep? We both know you're sick. But I'm here in your mind. I have more power than anyone. Listen to me, Booth. Or else." She enforced a hard impact into his ribs. "Take the pill."_

_He took it._

* * *

Brennan gave Booth his space upon returning home. Knowing the seriousness of their situation it about killed her to do so. But she knew she had to wait until the time was right, until he was ready. So just as she had done in Aruba she let him come and go as he pleased without commenting. These days he wasn't able to go all that far. In the mornings it took all his strength to battle back against the pain he was in just to get out of bed. In every filtering hour she found evidence in him to prove that Dr. Merck's predictions were true. He was floundering at an incredible rate.

After no more than a day she requested a prescription of morphine from Dr. Merck. By the time she returned home with it after briefly leaving him Booth had ambled his way onto the couch downstairs. He was sparing with any response until she tentatively prepared a shot and administered it to him. Minutes passed before he sighed in relief and closed his eyes.

"Booth." She gripped his hand. "This is only going to get worse. Soon the morphine won't be enough. I know she's in your head convincing you that my only desire is to hurt you, or watch you suffer. I think somewhere you know that isn't true. I would fight this disease for you if I could. But I can't. The best I can do is to convince you to receive help. I know you can't trust me right now. I just want you to think, if you can. You ended up in the hospital because you had a terrible seizure. Just before that episode you knew it was coming. You asked for me. You _trusted _me. It's hidden under the pain and confusion. But I know its there. I'm begging you to give me that confidence again now." Her speech was interrupted by his sudden wincing. "I'm not willing to let anything happen to you. Please, Booth. Believe me." For good measure she threw in a kiss. Anything that might assist her pleading.

_You're not seriously going to believe her. After what she's done to you? _Amanda sneered in his head. He didn't acknowledge his imaginary foe. He kissed Brennan back before giving her a single nod. He then let his medication take him away.

Brennan started right away making phone calls. It was time to get busy planning. With his blessing it was time to start saving his life.


	118. Changing Of The Tide

**A Week Later**

The lab was silent save for the sound of Brennan's fingers typing furiously on her computer keyboard. Whatever thought came to mind was recorded. As it was the very early hours of the morning no one was around to distract her, therefore making it much easier for her to articulate herself properly. If it weren't for a single lamp she'd turned on she would have been bathed in almost complete darkness. The isolation was appreciated. The truth is she could have been carrying out her task at home. But overnight she'd laid awake with thought after thought hurtling through her mind at a light speed pace. She knew what needed to be done. And for it she knew she needed time away; time to herself to think properly. And so she'd left Booth asleep in their bed to retreat to the safety of her sacred space; space that wouldn't be her space for much longer.

She was so immersed in her thoughts that when a voice questioned, "sweetie?" she near fell from her chair in shock. Angela was standing in her doorway with a raised eyebrow. "What are you doing here so early?"

"I, uh," she glanced back to her monitor. Discreetly she tried to darken the screen. "I had some work to catch up on."

Booth had once told Brennan she was not "CIA material," meaning she didn't do well in fooling others. Angela was no exception. She took it upon herself to turn her friend's computer monitor back on. She caught glimpse of the first two words before taking a step back and gasping. "You came in early to write your resignation?"

Brennan exhaled. Not one of their colleagues knew of Booth's relapse. The FBI had been informed, but that was as far as she'd chosen to spread the news. Though he might not have lost his job after his altercation with Carrey, especially considering his tumor was likely partly to blame for his behavior, Brennan didn't hold high hopes that he would again work for the FBI. Some days she wondered if he'd ever work again period. Since being diagnosed she'd remained in his presence around the clock. Given their sporadic work history no one in the lab had questioned Brennan's sudden time off. Until now.

"Why would you be turning in your resignation? Why are you even thinking of quitting? Brennan, this lab needs you. We can't function without you."

"Booth needs me more," she argued back gently. "My family is heavily dependant on me at the moment, and my presence is required."

"Whoa. Wait. Back up. Booth? What's going on? Did something happen?"

The week that had passed hadn't lessened any of the pain. "Aruba was a bad time for us, Ange. Booth's behavior became overly erratic. He was easily angered, and was suddenly suspicious of everything to the point of paranoia. When we arrived home we had a fight. I wanted to force him into seeing a doctor. He suffered a seizure of an intensity I'd never witnessed before. I spoke with his doctor who urged me to take him to the hospital." She sighed a breath. "He's got tumors again, one in particular is on his brain. It's applying pressure to an area that is causing all these symptoms. He's hallucinating Amanda again. Only this time he's on her side."

Angela was horrified. "What?"

"He believes everything she tells him. I know its just a manifestation of the tumor but he doesn't always. He struggles to shut her out, and to trust me. Sometimes it's just not possible for him. Yesterday I heard him speaking out loud to her. I think at times she appears to him as a real person once again."

"Does she abuse him?"

"No. I can't figure it out. It seems all she wants is to feed into his paranoia. She wants to turn him against himself. But I can't discern that he has any flashbacks. Sometimes I'm not entirely positive he even knows who she is. The tumor is operable but Dr. Merck isn't comfortable attempting the surgery without treatment to try and shrink the area first. He's had a few chemo treatments but we've been unable to do any radiation. He balks as soon as he's placed inside the machine." The last time they'd tried it taken hours and a sedative before he'd calmed once again. "Tomorrow he is supposed to undergo surgery to remove tumors off his abdomen and the muscles over his ribs. His behavior is so unpredictable I have no idea whether or not I'll be able to convince him to go. He doesn't always know who _I _am." She'd been able to successfully cope with his confusion over her. But when he hadn't recognized his own children she'd had to find a private place to mourn. "This is taking him much faster than the others did."

Angela was fighting tears. "Sweetie. Why didn't you tell us? We'd be glad to help out."

"I don't know how he'll react to anyone else. It's taken a lot of thought but I just believe its time for me to turn in my resignation. My job can be done by someone else. His, as well. Granted they won't be nearly as successful as we were. But he needs me, and he's much more important to me than any job."

"So… take a leave of absence. See what happens before you make any final decisions."

"I can't foresee him ever stepping back into his job at the FBI. And without him forensic anthropology holds no interest for me. If he fully recovers I just assume we move somewhere where I can study a tribe, or work for another museum. Just… there's plenty of options for my future. Right now his are rather limited." The unspoken question being whether he had a future for them to look forward to.

"I understand. But just start with a leave of absence. Please. For me."

Angela's begging won out. Once Cam arrived to begin the day Brennan informed her with the same knowledge. The woman was visibly shaken. She awarded Brennan all the time off she needed. Brennan just barely thanked her before hurrying from the lab. There was only so much she could take. Dealing with Booth and only Booth at home was easy to manage. Having to tell others that he was battling a life ending illness they thought he'd finally overcome was another story. Their disappointed, stricken faces haunted her the entire drive home.

The house itself was eerily silent. Her father had taken the children for the week so as all her attention could be focused on treatment. Judging by the stillness she concluded Booth was still asleep upstairs. He was just coming to as she stepped inside their bedroom. Indeed he was still lost underneath a mound of blankets. Only his head and a single arm were exposed. His bicep was tightly clenched. His expression fixed in a permanent grimace. These small indications told her all she needed to know. Before laying down besides him she prepared a shot of morphine.

Ordinarily when he woke Amanda took her time coming around to sink her controlling claws into him. In those moments he was as blank as a clean slate. So motionless he was borderline paralyzed. And so Brennan had learned to use the brief period of time as a window of opportunity. There was no fight, no attempts from his distrustful mind to stop her. By the time his brain started functioning properly his aching had been dulled down. But she knew he was experienced a complete relief.

After injecting the potion into his hip she laid down besides him to keep watch. There was no momentous occasion as there had been in the past. He no longer sighed a contented breath before opening his eyes to award her with a thankful kiss. He was unable to offer her any real obvious indication that the medication was working. "A fucking week," she muttered out loud. The curse sounded odd coming from her but she meant it. A swear was required to emphasize the proper amount of anger she felt. "A fucking week was all it took." They'd caught it early this time, but it'd made little difference.

"I'm angry, Booth." She broke the silence. Knowing he wasn't really hearing her allowed her the freedom to speak the thoughts that had been playing through her conscious for days. "I'm enraged, actually. Not with you. But with this situation. I'm angry in the helplessness that I have been forced into. I'm trying to do all I can for you. I'm trying to remain strong because I know whatever I am going through is nothing compared to what you are undergoing. But I fear my efforts aren't enough anymore. I've been foolish in thinking that I alone can save you. She's proving us wrong day by day. Every time the sun sets its another day I've lost with you, and I fear the day in which that sun sets on you for the final time. I'm constantly failing you. She's disabled us in a way I never thought possible. She stole your trust in me through no fault of your own. You're supposed to undergo surgery tomorrow. The first round of what I'm fearful will turn into several. I don't know if you'll understand anything that's happening around you, since I know often you understand little of what's happening _to_ you. But… I can't watch you die, Booth." She fought tears. "You told me once of how people leave metaphorical marks upon one another. If that's the case then you've cut down into the deepest organs of me that a person possesses. I won't say goodbye to you. I refuse. Our love has carried us through everything and I have no intention of letting outside phenomenon destroy that now. But watching you suffer is difficult to do." A tear slipped down her cheek. "I don't know what to do anymore."

His only response was a restrained sigh. Her emotions were no longer in her grasp. She laid her head down upon his chest. Beneath her his body shifted. His cheek came to a rest on top of her hair. The unintentional sign of affection broke the dam. Blessed with his obliviousness she let herself sob deeply into the fabric of his shirt. Her fingers wrapped around him tightly as though her sheer will alone could keep him in their world.

She thought she'd been spouting her mind to an unconscious man. What she hadn't known was that he'd been awake, and heard every word.

* * *

Throughout the day Booth remained with Brennan as best as he could. He faded in and out, alternating between her loving husband and a stranger who didn't trust her and wanted little to do with her. Someone who trusted a fictional figure of his mind more than anyone else. That evening he administered a shot and collapsed into bed long before she did. She stayed awake with thoughts of his surgery weighing heavily over her head. Sometime in the early morning hours on the couch in the living room, she too drifted off.

She was aware something wasn't right from the moment she woke. A blanket had been placed over her, and a pillow had been tucked delicately beneath her head. She sat up in confusion. Something in the air had changed. The environment was still. Stagnant. Stale. "Booth?" She called. Off of the couch she climbed.

Room to room she went searching for him. All were vacant. It wasn't until she got to the bedroom that she discovered the cold hard truth. Clothes were missing. A few personal items had vanished as well. Booth had left of his own accord long before she'd woken, and she doubted it was to go to the hospital. Had Amanda driven him out?

But his concern for her comfort had to have taken place before he'd gone. A paranoid mind wouldn't think to care for their wife by putting a blanket over her. That was love. Perhaps even evidence of regret. This all left her to question the person he'd been when he'd slipped out the door.

And the person he'd turned into since.


	119. Slip Out The Back

Booth set out that morning to accomplish a very specific mission. A narrow time frame was forcing him into early action, for later he had a bus to catch. The guilt he felt for leaving Brennan without so much as a note was great. But there were certain activities he refused to involve her in. Her speech to him, though not intended to be heard, had given him a glimpse into what she was really thinking. The limit as to how much she could handle had been reached. His beautiful wife was rightfully exhausted. Torn apart between anguish and stress. His sudden disappearance may have done nothing to provide her with any relief. But under the circumstances it was the best he could have offered her in what was left of his sound mind. His love for her never changed, no matter who or what he became.

_You're such a god damned baby. You really think she needs you? She's probably ecstatic that you're gone. Now she can move on with her life. No more babysitting a dying man. _Amanda growled threateningly in his head. He sighed. If she wasn't overruling his mind and body then she was tearing him down into pieces. _She can get someone who treats her the way she should be. _That statement was harder to ignore.

Before he was prepared the cab he'd been riding in came to a stop. He climbed out with a backpack over his shoulder after paying the fare. The vehicle left him standing on the sidewalk as it rumbled away in a cloud of exhaust. Its departure went unnoticed. The world itself had ceased to exist beyond the dwelling standing in front of him. Since he'd last been all the windows had been boarded up. No glass remained in the frames. The lawn was much overgrown with no one to take care of it. Weeds littered the property. A rusted "for sale" sign appeared to be on its last gasp before collapsing into itself. No one wanted a house where such brutality had taken place. Whomever thought they could pass it off onto someone else was a fool.

Because it was in such a dilapidated condition Booth had almost no difficulty breaking in. The molded piece of wood he punched with a gloved hand folded in half. He pried it away, allowing it to fall down into the living room. Over the sill he hoisted himself. Access was granted. _What the hell are you doing? _Amanda demanded to know. He disregarded her.

What awaited him inside was no better than the outside. A leak somewhere in the ceiling had dripped onto the carpet for years inflicting a type of damage not easily repaired. The musty smell was overpowering. Booth nearly had to draw the collar of his shirt over his nose just to continue. He traced the familiar path down into the basement.

"_Don't you miss the sunlight? The fresh air?" Amanda laughed. Booth knew responding was pointless. He did his best to wiggle weakly in protest of her tying a blindfold over his eyes, and a rag over his mouth. He felt a few droplets of a liquid skirt over his forehead. The warmth of it near burned his flesh. In the opposite direction he jerked away._

_His reaction delighted her. "The next time you breathe fresh air," a stream poured over his nose. He panicked. _She's drowning me!

"_Or see the sunlight-" The cascade turned into drops which soaked the blindfold and stung his eyes. Pain tensed up his muscles._

"_It'll be at your funeral. Then again-" Something sharp pierced his chest. "By then I hope to have you so disfigured you'll need a closed coffin!"_

The basement had at last been cleaned up. The blood had been hosed off the floor. The remaining few blankets that amazingly had escaped blood shed had been tossed away like the trash they were. The windows were the only few in tact, and had been uncovered to let in light. The electric wire that had rimmed the sill had been taken by police long ago as evidence. Booth wondered now what ever had happened to all the items that had been collected; the bloody tools, clothes, blankets, and so on. Once Amanda had met her end had they been destroyed? He hoped so. If not he would have taken immeasurable pleasure in demolishing them himself.

_I'm glad you're remembering. We had some good times down here. _Amanda mused.

"Never again," he whispered out loud. The bag he set down onto the ground. He bent on one knee to undo the zipper. From inside he removed a can of lighter fluid. Around the basement he sprayed the formula. Once he was finished he capped the can and replaced it back in his pack. Amanda was frantic as he calmly headed up the steps. _What are you doing? What are you thinking? You can't… you can't seriously be considering…_

He withdrew a freshly bought pack of cigarettes from his pocket. Amanda's pleading grew louder as he lit the top. _No! NO. You can't do this. This was mine. It was all mine. You can't take this away._

"You took everything from me," he told her. "Deal with it." Satisfied with his work he tossed the cigarette down onto the floor. A few minutes passed before the desired effect took place. One burned ash and a flame sparked the length of the room. The orange embers glowed in his eyes. He patiently waited until most of the environment had been consumed by rage. Then he fled upstairs. Just careful as he had been to enter he was to leave. He jogged off before he could be seen. "It's over," he promised himself. Amanda had once again been silenced.

* * *

Max was surprised to find his daughter knocking on his door at such an early hour. "I thought Booth's surgery was today?" He questioned in lieu of greeting. "That's why I had the children?"

Her eyes were rimmed in red. "He disappeared overnight," she informed him glumly.

"What… come in." He put an arm around her, ushering her inside. "He left? Did he give you any idea where he was headed?"

"No." She allowed herself to be led into his kitchen and sat down at his table. "I woke up and he was gone. I don't know what he's thinking, or the mindset he's in. I am unsure of even who he is, Booth or the tumor. I didn't see it necessary for you to keep the children."

Max didn't feign his incredulousness. "You aren't going to go after him?"

"How? I'm unaware of his intentions. He's not always in his right mind. I don't know where he'd go. I don't believe he'd even want to be found."

He spoke while preparing a cup of tea. "Whether they realize it or not everyone wants to be found, Tempe. If anyone can find him its you. I'm willing to bet he left you a trail of breadcrumbs."

"Maybe." She wasn't optimistic. "I worry that this is my fault. I vented out my feelings to him. I thought he was asleep at the time but I fear now that he was awake, and he heard me. I think he misconstrued my words. I know when he's himself he worries over how his situation is affecting me. Perhaps that's why he left. He feels I deserve better. His self esteem never really has recovered from the trauma he endured."

"I can't imagine after basically being brainwashed into believing he was a terrible person that it would. But I'm telling you," he prepared the drink and set a mug down in front of her. "If you look for him, you'll find him. And you need to. Especially now, with his tumors."

"He doesn't have much time." She agreed. "I suppose I could check the activity on our credit cards."

Max nodded encouragingly. "That's a start."

Brennan did all she could to track down her missing husband. One call to their credit card company and she learned Booth had purchased a bus ticket. From there she phoned the bus terminal, and gathered as much information from them as she could. "He boarded a bus this morning to Charleston, South Carolina."

"Why South Carolina? Does he have family there?"

"Not that I'm aware of." She sighed. "His Pops is still here in D.C. And he hasn't spoken to Jared in years." So far as she knew Booth's brother had no idea of the hell he'd been through.

"Maybe its related to that woman who abducted him?"

"I suppose it's a possibility." But a highly improbable one. She paused to think. "May I borrow your computer?"

She spent the next few hours doing all the research she could on the city. There were plenty of tourist spots but she couldn't imagine at a time like this he'd care about sight seeing. "Why would you go there, Booth?" She muttered to herself. The click of a link leading her to a news article was like a godsend. A clinic on the very outskirts of the city was causing controversy with an experimental drug trial seeking to eliminate the presence of cancerous tumors throughout the body. She had every confidence that Booth had gone to volunteer himself. "It seems I'm headed to Charleston."

Max was in the living room watching the lunch hour news when Brennan joined him. "Are you able to watch the children for a few more days? I need to go to Charleston. I believe I can find Booth."

"Of course I will. You do what you need to do to bring him home."

She was about to comment further when the particular news segment he was watching caught her eye. Images of an abandoned house engulfed in flames flashed across the screen. Brennan's stomach turned. "Oh my God."

"What? What is it?"

A police officer was interviewed. "The fire originated down in the basement. I can't speak specifics but right now we are suspecting arson based on some evidence discovered. We don't have any suspects. This house has been a common target for maliciousness for years now. We're not really surprised to see it go. After a thorough investigation what remains are left will be torn down."

Brennan forced herself to swallow back the bitter bile rising in her throat. "That house… that's the house that… _she _held Booth captive in. He set the house on fire." It had to have been him. Considering his frame of mind, and the way Amanda consistently berated his thoughts, it made logical sense.

"Are you sure? I mean," Max glanced back to the screen. "If he did do it, good for him."

Brennan wasn't quite so willing to praise his actions. She had to find Booth.


	120. Chasing The Sunset

Brennan readied herself for her trip while she waited for time to pass. Her first action upon learning of Booth's whereabouts had been to purchase a ticket on the next flight to Charleston. Hours would tick on before it would be time for her to leave. She half seriously considered canceling her ticket and driving instead. "Don't be foolish," Max had coached her over the phone. He'd requested for her to phone him once she had more information for him. "Just take the plane, Tempe. You're under enough stress and in the end it will take you the same amount of time if you were to fly."

"I just don't want to waste time. I have to stop him, dad."

Max was puzzled. "But why? This is an experimental drug treatment to rid him of his cancer, right? Why wouldn't you want that for him?"

She'd done her research. The clinic had been causing such controversy due to its procedures. The medications they were pushing on their patients were strong, and not without severe side effects. The results had been mixed, with more patients dying from their illnesses than recovering. She hadn't understood why Booth had taken such a large gamble with his life. "Because it's experimental. He needs to come home to return to what works. The cancer went into remission before. We'll find a way to get in there again. I don't want him doing anything potentially harmful to himself. I don't trust that this clinic will do him any good."

"Well, he must've. Or else he wouldn't have gone, right?"

It pained her to admit the truth. "I don't know what he's thinking these days. I don't believe he's able to think rationally. I don't know what drove him to South Carolina. Maybe it was me. But I know I need to bring him home."

Just before she departed from her home for the airport she checked her credit card activity for a second time. She scribbled the name of a hotel Booth had used their card to check in to. "You are making this awful easy to find you," she murmured to an invisible Booth as she hung up. "Maybe dad is right. Maybe you did want to be found." Or maybe the tumor was disabling the cognitive functioning used to cover his tracks. Her heart fell at the thought. She knew more likely that not her unspoken thought was correct. "You have to come home with me."

The airport was it's usual nightmare, but it kept her thoughts distracted. Even irritation was welcome compared to the heaviness that settled down on her chest whenever she stopped long enough to think of their situation. Yet the ride gave her nothing but time to think. What would she do if Booth insisted in following through on his hairbrained scheme? Logically she knew his chances at improvement through the clinic's drug cocktail were slim. Taking how weak he already was into consideration, she calculated his survival expectancy to be cut in half. If he had even so much as a year left in him she would have been slightly more willing to let him test the waters outside of conventional medicine. But time was the enemy.

Then of course, there was fret over the paranoia. If Booth's mind decided to betray the both of them then she doubted there was much she could do to convince him. She hated not knowing what to expect. Who had he been when he'd torched Amanda's house? Why now, after all this time; after all those horrid memories that had haunted him year after year, did he decided to take such a drastic measure? Years ago she wouldn't have found it so shocking. But now… she sighed and rubbed her eyes. _I don't entirely blame you, Booth. I just wish I knew what you were thinking. I'm worried over what will happen to you if the police figure out you were behind the fire. _

She'd fallen into a fitful sleep before the plane touched down. Another hour was lost in waiting for her luggage at baggage claim, and then waiting in line to rent a car at the airport's vestibule. Filling out documentation to achieve said car took more time, and by the time she was at last seated behind the steering wheel smoke was nearly billowing from her ears. "Incompetent idiots," she muttered to herself while driving away.

The sun was sinking below the horizon. More anger stemmed through her. Another day gone. She detested herself for thinking this way but couldn't help it. They were on borrowed time. Well, with any luck she'd have them both on a plane home in the morning. That counted deeply on everything going the way she needed it to. Not likely. Who was to say she'd even be able to find Booth that evening? She tried calling him. The few rings ceased into his voice mail.

The hotel he'd selected was right on the ocean. She had to think there was something magical for him about being near open bodies of water. The sound of the surf was relaxing, but for him she thought maybe it was something more; something he may not have even realized.

In the parking lot she shut off the car. She threw open the door, and then just sat. Now what? Did she get a room for herself? Did she try to coax the clerk working the front desk into giving her the room number where Booth was staying? She wasn't good at flirting to get information out of strangers. Not like Angela. But for Booth she'd be willing to give it a shot. Pure desperation drove her into dialing his cell phone one last time. Faintly she could hear his cheery ring tone. Straighter she sat in her seat. Booth was outside. He was somewhere within close proximity to her. When the phone reached his voice message she hung up. She dialed him again and got out of the car.

She did a general canvass of the parking lot, phoning him over and over again to listen to the sound. It led her straight to a concrete wall dividing the hotel from the ocean. As it wasn't a large wall she had no trouble in scaling the top. Down on the other side Booth had dropped into the sand. He was sitting upright with his back against the wall. His knees were pulled up to his chest. Against them his forehead rested. He was oblivious to the phone laying besides him.

Brennan jumped down from the barricade. She knelt besides him. "Booth?" So badly she wanted to touch him, but was afraid to do so. Not afraid of him, but in unknowing the frame of mind he was in. When he didn't move she risked it. Her palm rested on the middle of his back. "Booth? Please look at me."

Seconds passed before he lifted his head. It tipped back. He squinted closely at her. A light coating of blood had rubbed across his upper lip from his nose. Brennan's heart skipped a beat. "Do you know me?"

He exhaled. "You weren't supposed to find me, Bones."

She withdrew a Kleenex from her pocket. He didn't move a muscle as she cleaned him up. "You didn't make it all that difficult to find you." She searched for some type of injury that might have caused his nose bleed. From what she could see there was no such laceration or bruise. "I came to bring you home."

"I can't go home. You weren't supposed to find me." He repeated. His eyes drifted closed. "I don't want this life for you anymore."

She smiled wanly. "You don't get a say in it, Booth. This is my life. You have to come home with me. I really prefer you not exploring this experimental drug treatment. I don't deem it necessary to change what has been successful for you in the past. You need to have surgery, and you need chemotherapy to at least stop your brain tumor from growing. These are proven methods of defense."

He was quiet for so long she thought he'd fallen asleep. "How do you know… about the drug trials?"

"I did research, Booth. I couldn't come up with any other reason on why you would make the journey all the way down here."

A chill was creeping into the air. Booth shivered. In doing so a new droplet of blood appeared. Brennan again took care of him. "Why don't we go inside and talk? You checked into your room, right? Where is it?"

His responses were all delayed. Without opening his eyes he retrieved a key card from his pocket and handed it to her. Then he laid down on his side in the sand. She gaped at him. "You can't sleep here, Booth."

"I want you to go home." He was adamant. "Leave, Bones. Be with our kids."

She frowned. "Is Amanda telling you to tell me this, Booth?"

"No." For the first time he grinned. "I got rid of her. I set her house on fire. I haven't heard her since."

She had to chuckle at his glee. "Then where is this coming from? Is this from the other day? Did you hear me?"

"I can't give you what you need anymore. I can't give you anything. I'm holding you back. But what bothers me the most," he swallowed. "Is I'm making you sad."

It was such a simplistic way to phrase it. But tears still came to her eyes. "Yes, I am sad. But its because I love you. Anyone in this position would be sad."

"I don't want to be that person." He tiredly rolled onto his back. "I want better than this for you. I want you to… to find someone who deserves you. Someone who makes you happy. I came here… I want to be saved, Bones. They wanted to start on me today. They said," he gazed up at the stars. "That I'm really sick."

"I know you are. That's why I want to bring you back home. The clinic's rate of success is low. We can't waste time on this." Ever so delicately did she place a hand on his cheek so she could tilt his head to look at her. The evidence in his eyes was astounding. "This trip took too much out of you."

"I'm tired." He acknowledged, settled into himself to rest again. "I want you to go home without me. I want you… to get a new life."

"You are my life. You know that. You always have been and you always will be." A pang of threatening danger pierced her stomach. "It's getting cold out. Come on. Get up." She ordered nervously.

"You go on." He slurred.

"No!" She pulled him into her arms. "Get up, Booth! Get up!"

"I love you, Bones."

"NO!" She stood up so fast she dumped him down into the sand. "Damn it! I'm not letting anything happen to you out here! Now get up!" Panic make her irrational. Matters were taken into her own hands. Roughly she tugged on his arms until he had no choice but to rise up onto his knees. She braced her arms around his shoulders. Together they got him onto his feet.

Climbing back over the wall was difficult but they managed. Brennan took him to his hotel room where she laid him flat out in bed. Through his bags she dug until she found his morphine. Immediately she was flooding him with relief, not that he showed all that much of a reaction. His mind had become foggy again; his eyes heavy with sleep. She undressed him as well as she could before pulling the covers up. "Rest."

"Go." His voice wasn't much more than a whisper.

"Tomorrow, yes. With you. I'm not doing anything without you." She pressed her lips to his. "We're going home. You're not doing this treatment."

"Last chance."

"No, it isn't your last chance. You have so much left in you. You're just tired. It's been a long day." Kicking off her shoes, she stretched out besides him and accepted him into her embrace. "I'm not going to give up on you. So you don't give up on me." She sealed her promise with a kiss to his temple. "We're going home tomorrow. I won't stand for any arguments. You defeated Amanda today. Likely for good. That's half the battle. We'll make it from here." Her words were falling onto deaf ears. He'd already drifted off. She held onto him tightly. "I love you so much. Please don't go." She exhaled. "Don't leave me."

* * *

Brennan slept in late the following morning. In fact, she slept in so late she woke to find herself alone in bed. The smell of soap and shampoo tainted the area. Before her Booth was dressed for the day. His hand was on the doorknob as he was readying to leave.

"Booth?" Her voice stopped him. "Where are you going?"

He turned around and looked at her.


	121. And A Dance

Lyrics used are "Stand By Me" by Ben E. King.

* * *

"Booth?" She sat up. With the shades drawn he appeared paler than usual. A ghostly apparition of what should have been a man. But those soulful eyes captivated her just as much as they had since the day they'd first met. "Where are you going?" She lowered the volume of her voice, hoping to reflect tenderness instead of accusatory. Booth's pain and delusion were usually at their worst first thing in the morning. That being said, she was unsure of his motives.

"The clinic." He finally slurred. "I have an appointment."

"No, Booth." She withdrew from the bed. "I told you yesterday. Do you remember? I want us to return to D.C. I don't want you to pursue this line of treatment. You don't have time to risk with unproven medication. Dr. Merck will do your surgery, and somehow we'll find a way to complete your radiation therapy. We'll take care of you. We'll find a way."

He looked down to their hands as she gripped his firmly in her own. "I don't want to. We've already proven that it doesn't work, Bones."

The slow rate of his speech bothered her. "But it does. You were in remission for quite some time."

"But it came back." He insisted.

"As it does sometimes. You know this isn't unheard of. But as far as your treatment is concerned those plans are the way to continue forward. It isn't right to dismiss what has proven successful for you in the past. Did you do any research into this clinic? The medications are harsh on the body. Few of their patients receive a higher rate of survival. Many of them die before any real results are seen. I don't want that take that risk. I know you are a gambler, but I am not and I refuse to start with something as important as this."

There was another long delay while his mind processed all she had said. "Come with me," he invited, nodding. "Let me do one treatment, and come with me so you can see for yourself what it is."

He just didn't comprehend how against this she was. Was his mind standing in the way of allowing him to grasp how ill he was becoming? "No. I want to leave. You need surgery. The other two tumors aren't troublesome yet but they will be. We need to act. You belong at home with me, and your children. You need the support of our family and your friends. Trust me. Please." She squeezed his hand tightly as though the motion would be all that was needed to convince him. As a last desperate measure she kissed him.

"I want to do this." Affection was not swaying him. "I trust you and Dr. Merck. But just once I want to try doing this my way."

She wanted to scream in frustration. "But your way is going to get you killed!" She sputtered.

"You don't know that." Outside a car horn beeped. "That's my taxi."

If there was no dissuading him she had but once choice. "Wait a moment. Allow me to dress. If you won't listen to me then I'm attending your appointment with you. But don't believe for a second that I am all right with this. One chance is all I am giving you. Then we are going home."

Neither spoke the entire ride to the clinic. Brennan periodically glanced at Booth out of the corner of her eye. His stare was fixated at the world blurring by outside. She wondered what he was thinking. What he was feeling. Why he was so sold on disregarding everything he knew; all that was helpful and familiar. Why was this so important to him? What had he seen or had been said to him that had started this new vein of determination? What more could she do to make him see the error in his ways? The idealization that the treatments could work for him wasn't even a realistic thought for her. There was no way this would save him.

A nurse was waiting for them when they arrived. After checking in at the front desk they were led into a private exam room. A typical test of his vitals was performed. Everything about him ranged from normal to below normal. No one in the room was surprised. After leaving a gown for him to change into she promised a doctor would be with them shortly. Behind her the door shut quietly.

Booth changed and crawled back up onto the bed. He settled himself down, gingerly placing his head on an overstuffed pillow waiting for him. Brennan could stand to sit no longer. She went to his side. Their eyes met. "I don't want you to think I don't want this to work for you," she whispered to him. "I do, but I have reservations and high expectations. Do you understand what is taking place within you? Your mind isn't as functional as it should be, and I just don't know where your reasoning is anymore." Considering he was no longer hearing Amanda and his paranoia had been tamed from its rampant running, she really didn't have the slightest inkling of what was happening to him. "I only want what's best."

The door swung open. A nurse different from the one they'd had greeted them both shyly. Brennan begrudgingly backed away from his bedside while an IV was hooked into Booth's arm. Brennan folded her arms securely over her chest while listening as the procedure was explained. A doctor would be arriving to feed the drug cocktail into Booth's IV. From there he'd have to wait at least an hour and a half for the drugs to affect his body. Then he would be released.

"And when will we have results on whether or not this has helped him?" Brennan inquired stiffly.

"Ah, well. You won't. Not right away. More than a few sessions are required-"

"Thank you." She cut her off. Tension occupied the space in the room. Upon finishing her duties the nurse was quick to excuse herself.

Booth had just about fallen asleep when the doctor joined them. He traded light pleasantries with them both, ignoring Brennan's frosty responses and Booth's lack of any. He continued where his two assistants had left off by attaching heart and blood pressure monitors. "This is just as I warned you yesterday. Are you sure you still want to proceed?"

_What did you tell him? _Frantically Brennan's eyes volleyed between the two of them. Booth just nodded. The doctor encouraged him to inhale as he injected a concoction into the IV bag. Gradually he exhaled during which Brennan watched the colored liquid move through the plastic tubing down into his body. The world tipped off its axis. No one was left in the atmosphere but the two of them. Time ceased to tick on before exploding forward. The clouds lifted. The hectic warning signals from Booth's monitors stole her attention. His pulse had spiked; his blood pressure having risen. His eyes were shut tightly. His breaths were focused as he forced himself to take them.

"This is supposed to help him?" Brennan barked at the doctor.

"It's rough at the start but within time-"

"No. This is not acceptable." Tears stung her eyes. "No more. We'll be going home in the morning."

The doctor didn't argue with her one way or another. Save for the sound of Booth's monitors no more was said by anyone for the rest of their time together. A cab was awaiting for them when he was released. Booth slept for most of the ride. His body burned hot with fever. His strength was depleted getting into their hotel room. He collapsed into bed with little regret. Brennan discerned he was asleep long before she'd reached his side.

She removed his clothes, leaving him in no more than his boxer shorts. From the bathroom she retrieved a wash cloth. In a covered bucket sitting on the counter by the sink was cold water that still contained small pieces of ice from the glacier that had sat melting in it overnight. Around in the container she swirled the cloth until it was saturated.

Besides Booth she knelt on the mattress. She spilled the cloth on his bare skin, rubbing away the perspiration and sickness. He shivered under her touch. His eyes opened when she blotted his forehead and cheeks. "No more, Booth," she told him, not unkindly. "You're miserable. We're going home tomorrow."

He was too far knocked off in outer space to form any objections. His chest heaved with a sigh. She kissed his dry, warm lips. Much to her pleasure he was able to bestow the same affection. "You'll be all right."

As the hours passed into the evening he only improved as the toxins ridded themselves from his veins. Her stomach growled not before long, and she felt comfortable enough leaving him to get dinner. The first restaurant she found near the hotel received her business. Though the service was anything but speedy, and she was itching to get back to her husband. Nearly an hour passed before she was back in the car cursing all the way back in the dark. "I should have ordered room service."

Inside their room a light had been left on. Booth was nowhere to be found. A fading sweat outline of a body remained on the bed sheet where he had once been. She saw his suitcase had been opened. _Okay, he dressed. _She spun around in a circle. _But where would he go? And why? _He was too weak to get far. His cell phone sat discarded on a bedside table. Obviously it was to be of no help this time. "Damn it, Booth," she'd no more breathed before it occurred to her. She knew precisely where he'd go.

_When the night has come_

_And the land is dark_

_And the moon is the only light we'll see_

Booth was just where he'd been the day before. Brennan hopped down off the wall to sink into the sand next to him. He'd drastically improved from the way he'd been when she'd left him. The sweat was gone as his temperature had lowered. His eyes had brightened, and shined during his timid smile he offered her. "Didn't mean to scare you. Just wanted some fresh air."

"You didn't scare me." She looked out to the waves crashing into the sand. "Why here, Booth? Why the ocean?"

"It's peaceful. I like the sound of the waves. It's a nice night."

"It is." She had to agree. Somehow she wanted to find a way to bring up her desire for them to leave in the morning. During the hell following his treatment she wasn't sure how much he'd been listening. "Listen, tomorrow-"

"You wanna go home. I know. I'll go." He shocked her. "I got what I wanted."

She raised an eyebrow. "Which was?"

He tilted his head back. "To be heard."

_No I won't be afraid_

_No, I won't be afraid_

_Just as long as you stand, stand by me_

"I wanted to try something out on my own, Bones. And I wanted us to have some time away from one another. I know what my illness is doing to you. It really bothers me that you never get a break. I don't like being taken care of. I wish I could just like, wish all this shit away. I know me leaving like I did would worry you. But I had to do it the way I did it. I didn't want you with me, especially when I set Amanda's house on fire." He cracked a grin. "If I'm going to jail they're not taking you with me."

"I don't think you're going to jail, Booth. I got the impression that the police were more or less relieved they won't have to deal with the vandalism anymore."

He nodded. "Last night when you found me… I was out of it, yeah. But I meant what I said. If I can't wish myself better than I can wish for a better life for you. Maybe Carrey was right. I don't deserve you." He looked to her once again. "But I'm selfish. I love you. I don't ever want to let you go."

She threw her arms around him. They embraced, kissing as they did so. Abruptly Booth was using the wall to haul himself up onto his feet. "Come on." He pulled off his shoes.

"What? Booth-"

"Come on!" He repeated eagerly. She rolled her eyes but removed her footwear. He took her hand and led her down onto the shore line. The faint music playing from somewhere near the hotel continued to sweep over them. He stopped them just enough so that the waves lapped at their ankles. He enveloped her body into his arms. To the rhythm he swayed them in a dance.

_If the sky that we look upon_

_Should tumble and fall_

_All the mountains should crumble into the sea_

"I would never let you give me up, you know." She spoke directly into his ear. "I won't let you go, Booth."

"I'm not going anywhere."

_I won't cry, no I won't shed a tear_

_Just as long as you stand, stand by me_


	122. Another Mountain

"_I'm not going anywhere."_

Brennan held onto those words. They kept her awake during the overnight hours while he slept on peacefully besides her. They'd no more gotten back to the room before the moonlit romance of the evening had taken over. They'd made love - once again upright against a wall to make way for Booth's tumors. She supposed they shouldn't have made love. But if he was up for it then she was more than willing to receive. In the later hours after they'd collapsed in a heap into bed together did Brennan begin to think of the possible repercussions to their actions. With all the sex they'd been engaging in she worried over becoming pregnant for a third time. Not that she wouldn't be thrilled. It certainly would give Booth cause to keep pushing on. But it wasn't the right time. Then again, the timing had never really been correct for any of their children. She couldn't truly decide whether or not it a pregnancy at that stage in their lives would be a good thing.

Yet it was Booth who primarily consumed her thoughts. Watching him sleep was giving her the opportunity to notice him in full detail with no distractions. She'd seen him but hadn't "seen" him in quite some time. As he was shirtless she could spot now the slightly raised area on his ribs where the tumor was eating into his muscle. The one down on his abdomen was a bit more difficult to discern, but she could feel it with a light brush of her fingertips over the area. He squirmed, though she couldn't tell if it was from pain or if she'd conjured a memory in his unconscious. Maybe he was simply ticklish. Next time they were in the moment she'd have to test out that theory. Just thinking about exploring the wonders of his body stirred parts of her that were only beginning to recover from their pleasure. Not knowing how much longer she'd be able to have those moments made her want to take advantage of them all the more.

The rest of him appeared to be normal. The bright red hues of anger and torture had faded over time. The rest of the scars on his chest that Amanda had driven deep wound in remained as puffy raised areas. Those he would never be able to be rid of. Brennan could hate and appreciate them at the same time. They were scars earned in a battle he had conquered. No matter how many ways she tried to create havoc beyond the grave she was still just that - dead in a grave. Unable to physically harm them. Except of course for his returning illness.

She couldn't help but to feel that he'd gained strength following his treatment earlier that day. But the thought of it made so little sense. He'd been hardly able to breathe once that filth had been plugged into his IV. He'd been so feverish she'd felt it absolutely necessary to wipe him down with a cool cloth. But when he'd woken he'd gotten outside over the wall and down onto the beach by himself. That wasn't an easy task for a man as sick as he had been. Despite the way the chemical had affected him, overall was it really more helpful than harmful? Was Booth's way really the answer? Could this cocktail that had left so many others to die be the cure for him? Was she really willing to allow him to risk his life in finding out?

The mattress suddenly shifted. Booth's chest muscles tightened. He breathed a little heavier. In his sleep he winced at his invisible menace. Somehow she knew his sudden disturbance had nothing to do with a nightmare, though the occurrences were similar. Without managing to wake him she removed herself from the bed. She returned to give him a dose of morphine. He writhed for a bit before settling. His head landed in her lap as his body curled into a "c" shape. She absentmindedly stroked his hair. "I wish I knew if I was doing the right thing for you," she whispered to him. "You put all your trust in me, and I couldn't be more grateful. But what if you know better than me? What if I'm wrong? Can I let go of what I know to something unproven?"

He licked his lips and wiggled himself closer to her, as though it were an unconscious answer. She chuckled. Her fingers instead began to trace the contour of his bicep. "I can't be wrong. Chemo and radiation therapy are the appropriate manners in which to handle your case. They are what assisted us before in ridding you of the disease." _It was Dr. Kaplan's potion that saved him. I should get into contact with her. _She glanced down to Booth's peaceful face. "But it didn't permanently save you. It gave us a few years before the cancer returned." Could they keep doing this every few years? What would falling into such a rut do to his body? The tumors still took pieces of him whenever they were removed. When would enough be enough?

She kissed his lips. "I don't know how just yet. But I'll get you cured."

* * *

That next week Booth had his surgery. First thing in the morning Brennan toted him to the hospital to have the two tumors plaguing his body removed. The verdict was still out on what to do as far as treatment for his brain tumor. Updated scans done before his surgery gave Brennan the impression that Dr. Merck was all the more gun shy to act aggressively. He wouldn't tell her what he'd seen, possibly since Booth was in their presence. Later she would do all she could to get the information out of him. If she was to be involved in his treatment then she needed to know all that was against them.

The surgery itself went well. The problem areas were taken care of without a hitch. It was waking up that Booth struggled with. Dr. Merck had arrived to speak with Brennan an hour after the surgery had been expected to end. She'd been near out of her mind with anxiety. "We can't get him stable. He's awake for a few minutes before he falls under again. He's not responding well to interaction."

"Let me see him." Brennan commanded.

In Recovery Booth was indeed asleep again when she was allowed by his side. She squeezed his hand and whispered into his ear. Slowly his eyes opened. His eyes took her in but his confusion was apparent. Something was hiding in his stare she couldn't identify. "It's me," she under toned to him. "Do you know me?"

His eyes fluttered.

"No, no. Booth, stay with me." She tried her best to encourage him. "You have to stay awake for more than a few minutes. It's of utmost importance that you do."

His eyes opened part way. She deemed he was listening even if he wasn't able to see her. "That's it. I need all the strength you have right now. Just stay with me. Listen to me." She spoke of a few of their memories together. Children. Beaches. Cases. Anything had captivated his attention and kept him from slipping back under. The gimmick worked. Within an hour he was able to sit up and sip on juice a nurse brought him. He smiled tiredly at his wife. _No one else but you, _he tried to silently tell her through a nod and hand hold.

After a day he was released. Brennan wasn't sure if he'd be able to tolerate being hospitalized much longer. He laid down for a nap with Alyssa the minute he crossed the threshold of their home. Their daughter had followed Booth straight up into his bedroom. When Brennan checked on them some twenty minutes later she found them asleep in bed, Booth holding her very similar to the way he did when she'd been just a baby. With a smile she'd covered them both with a blanket and left them to rest.

In the kitchen she visited for a while with her father who had again volunteered himself as baby sitter. She skirted the topic whenever he tried to bring up Booth's health. Outside of his doctors she didn't have the heart to discuss the cancer with anyone. There was too much on her mind that she wasn't ready to part with. Finally he left. "It'll all work itself out." He kissed her forehead.

What was meant to be meaningful left her with a lump in her throat. She raced to the phone to call Dr. Merck. As he was involved in another surgery she was forced to wait. Since there was little in the home that required her attention she headed upstairs to her bedroom. Just under the doorframe she stopped to admire her husband and daughter. They were just as she had left them. She smiled. Booth's love for their children increased her attraction to him, as if it needed any. She made a mental note to call Rebecca. He and Parker hadn't seen one another in some time, and she knew that bothered him.

She was surprised when her stomach twisted with nausea. Away from the bedroom she backed into the bathroom. Her insides didn't somersault but her mouth filled with saliva. A few times she was forced to spit into the sink before the feeling eased. She pressed her palms against the wall. "I have to find out about Booth." She murmured. Obviously her worry was taking itself out on her physically.

When the phone rang some fifteen minutes later Brennan ran down into the living room for privacy. "What did you see on his CAT scan? His MRI? What weren't you telling me yesterday?" Her hostile voice shocked even herself. There'd been no greeting. Just violence.

As Dr. Merck was usually abrasive himself her emotion didn't impress him. "What I saw didn't please me and I didn't want to talk about it around him. What you're probably thinking is true. The tumor has grown. But he's only had a few chemo sessions so I'm not stunned by this. We have to get him on a regular schedule. No more dawdling."

She shut her eyes. This was what she had expected. "What do you think of that treatment he received in South Carolina? Were you able to tell if it was of any use?"

"I can tell you it didn't hurt him any. Until he'd had those treatments on a steady basis I wouldn't be able to determine anything."

She sighed her frustration. "All right. I'll call the clinic and arrange his schedule. We'll be in touch. Thank you."

Booth did not receive the news right away. Brennan informed him of his intensive schedule which was due to start the following week, but that was all. Every day as he recovered from the surgery he grew stronger and wittier. When a few nights later he tried to take a loving moment further she had a difficult time stopping him. "Your incisions are still healing."

"I'm fine." He playfully pinned her down on her back, kissing her.

She tilted her head back as he moved down her body. Damn, she hated how seductive he could be. "Booth, we've been careless. We haven't used protection. I'm not on the pill."

"I can't imagine I'm very fertile right now." He argued back with a chuckle of irony.

"But I just-"

He eased off of her. "Bones, if you won't want to then just say so. I'm just finally feeling up to it, and after next week I probably won't. I just wanted some quality time with you but whatever." Underneath the sheets he crawled.

"Your brain tumor has grown." Like Dr. Merck, he too wasn't moved by her news. She gaped at him. "Doesn't this bother you?"

"No. I know I'm sick and getting sicker. But there's nothing more I can do about it. Getting sad and depressed every time I get a new diagnosis is just going to drive me up a wall. I need to act normal. For the first time in years I'm being positive. I'm sorry but it is what it is right now. I'm going to fight it. Amanda's not going to win. The best thing I can do for myself is remain upbeat, and I'm gonna hold onto that for as long as I can."

She burst into tears. Alarmed, he sat up on his knees and hugged herself to him. "Don't cry. I promise you its going to be all right. I promise you everything." He kissed her. "I promise you me."

What he didn't understand was that she wasn't crying tears of anguish. She was crying tears of relief. He'd just given her all she'd needed to hear. Cure or not, they would fight.


	123. Dealing Differently

**A Month Later**

The dark rainy night was not one meant for visitors. Certainly not in his office at the FBI, Sweets reasoned as his work was interrupted by a knock on his door. Since late that afternoon he'd been doing much needed computer work he'd been putting off. Daisy had let him know early on she'd be late in the lab. Without Brennan, the interns had been scrambling to fill in the spaces where their boss once was. Daisy had been most instrumental about getting herself to the forefront. Or so he'd heard in the grumblings offered by her colleagues any time he visited the Jeffersonian, which was rare these days. His girlfriend had dialed back her eager drive that irritated others to no end. But only a smidgen. She still had a long way to go, and he couldn't see her transforming herself.

Anyway, all of this had defeated any motivation he'd had to call it an early night. Nothing was more depressing than an empty apartment.

The second knock was harder. Aggravation. Irritancy. Sweets rose from his desk. He opened his door to find a soaked Booth standing in front of him. "Hey," he was breathless. "You busy?"

"Um. No. Come on in, Agent Booth."

"You might as well drop the "agent." He limped inside past the young doctor. "I probably won't be that ever again."

Sweets leaned out of the office to peer in the hall. "Dr. Brennan with you?"

Booth sat down on his couch. Walking tired him out easily these days. "No. She doesn't know I'm here."

He shut the door. "Oh. It's just that it's late. Um. What can I help you with?" Around Booth he walked to sit himself in a chair in front of him. This felt all too much like therapy. Was that what he was seeking? Counseling?

Booth hesitated. He looked out of the window's rain streaked windows. A bolt of lightning sliced the sky. He thought about beating around the bush. Excuse after excuse he thought up. Oh, he'd come to visit. It'd been so long since he'd been able to get out on his own that he'd desired to visit with a friend. But it was bullshit, and Sweets would have been able to see right through it. "I wanted to know if you could write me a prescription for something. Something to help me relax."

Sweets raised an eyebrow. "A sedative?"

"I know what you're thinking. I know you'll be reluctant because of my past. But I need something." He still wouldn't face the young man. "I can't relax. I can't stop thinking. It takes all the strength I have just to get through the chemo and radiation. I get home and I'm exhausted, but I can't sleep because I'm too worked up. I wouldn't be here asking you if I thought I could control this. I hate myself for it."

Sweets studied him. "You're not getting better," he predicted.

"No. I'm not, actually."

"Dr. Brennan know?"

"Not yet. She probably will soon."

He nodded. "Look, I understand. But I don't want to complicate matters any further. And I have a feeling prescribing you medication will do that. In your weakened state you could fall back into addiction very quickly. I realize it seems like the good overshadows the bad, but I can't in good conscious do this for you. I'm sorry."

There was once a day in which Booth would have clearly demonstrated his aggravation with the doctor. It almost crushed Sweets' heart to see him give in so easily. "I had to try." He winced as he rose back up to his feet.

Sweets ushered him back to the door. He tried to make up for his denial by filling him in on natural remedies he knew of. Booth listened politely, but he could tell his mind had already moved on. "How'd you get here?"

"I got a cab waiting for me."

They reached the doorway. "Take care of yourself, all right? You beat this before, Booth. You got through it when it looked hopeless. I know you have the strength in you to get through it again."

Booth chuckled. "Don't start getting all sappy on me." He lightly punched him in the shoulder. "But thanks." Away he shuffled to the elevators. One car was already waiting for him. He stepped inside and disappeared. Sweets lingered, thought after thought filling his mind. Was he doing the right thing?

* * *

Brennan felt as though she were losing her mind. She'd woken up first thing in the morning to the twins individually crying for their parents. Her eyes had opened to find Alyssa had escaped her crib, and was snuggled tightly in between her and Booth there in the bed. Her siblings' wailing seemed not to bother her. Brennan's pulling away just caused her to roll over to cuddle up tighter against her father. Booth was unaware of anything, such as he was these days. She didn't blame him, but wouldn't deny that at times she resented him. The guilt for it ate at her. She tried to pacify herself by promising that it wasn't that she resented him, but the situation. That gelled more with her emotions.

The twins both needed changing, and wanted breakfast. She lugged the two of them down into the kitchen. They'd just been secured in their high chairs when Booth emerged clutching Alyssa. "I can help," he swore feebly. Alyssa was delicately placed standing on the floor.

Brennan smiled slightly. She kissed him. "You should really lay down."

"I can help." He insisted. "Come on, Bones. I'm already down here."

"All right." She wavered.

Side by side they prepared food for their children. Alyssa was at the age where she could eat on her own, for which they were both thankful. Brennan chose to feed Danny, while Booth spoon fed Riley. His voice was low, crooning silly talk to the both of them and enjoying their giggles and squeals of delight. Neither parent noticed Alyssa's face darkening.

After breakfast since Booth was feeling up to it and had a bit of time to waste before chemo, he took the children into the living room to play. Brennan cleaned up the mess that had been made. When the call of nature interrupted her she was reminded of the burden that waited her back upstairs in the bathroom. She glanced in on her family until she left the remainder of dishes and hurried upstairs.

It wasn't as though she didn't know how to take a pregnancy test. She'd taken plenty. But opening the box made her feel as though it were her first time all over again. The stomach pains and vomiting had ceased a while ago. But her period was late. Her mind still hadn't completely settled on whether another pregnancy was a good idea or not. Three children and Booth's illness were already leaving her exhausted and overwhelmed. In having another she couldn't be able to fathom handling the situation.

On the other hand the children provided them with such love. Such joy. She could picture Booth's face lighting up upon hearing the news. He'd been fighting his heart out. Would being informed of this give him a burst of energy? Could it be what got him out of this terrible sickness?

She performed the functions. Then she sat and waited for the test to finish. All the while she could hear the activity taking place downstairs. The twins were greatly amused by their father. Judging by Booth's voice she determined he was feeling well. He exclaimed and over exaggerated, like parents often did with their babies. Surprisingly to her, Alyssa could not be heard.

After the appropriate amount of time passed she checked the test. The results hit her like a hammer. She wasn't pregnant. There was no margin of error. She'd never seen such solid, bold words.

"Alyssa!" Booth suddenly yelled at the same time one of the babies wailed. "What's wrong with you? You need a time out!"

Brennan flew back downstairs. Booth was standing up, cuddling Riley close to him. "It's all right," he promised, kissing her chubby cheek.

"What happened?"

"Alyssa threw a building block at Riley." Booth didn't feign his astonishment.

Brennan frowned. "Come on," she held her hand out to her child. "We're going to your room for punishment."

"No!" She hollered back at her mother. "I want daddy!"

Booth and Brennan's eyes met. A real problem was developing.

* * *

"That's easy. She's jealous."

Later on that morning Max had arrived. He watched over the babies while Brennan took Booth to and picked him up from chemo. It was much easier than trying to haul an entire family. Somehow during their light conversation the topic of Alyssa's outburst had come up. "Jealous? But we pay equal attention to her."

"No offense, Tempe. But I have a difficult time believing that. Booth is too sick and too worn out to be able to keep up with you."

"She takes naps with him." Brennan was defensive. If her father was trying to say Booth wasn't a good dad she'd be ready to shove a finger right back in his face. How dare he try to criticize.

"I'm just saying. She may be too young to know but she knows something is wrong with Booth. She knows daddy isn't around as much. She loves him, so she's jealous whenever he gives attention to the twins."

"Maybe. Or perhaps its just a phase she's going through." She was suddenly besieged with fatigue. Only five more minutes till she had to leave to retrieve Booth. "I should get ready to go."

Max followed her to the door. "Sweetie, have you ever considered placing Booth somewhere?"

She whipped around, her eyes blazing. "What? Like a home?"

"Maybe he'd be a good candidate for hospice."

Her heart raced with anger. "Booth is not terminally ill. He doesn't require that sort of care."

"I've seen him." Max argued gently. "And look at you. You're practically dead on your feet. I've never seen you so stretched. I'm just suggesting that if he were to stay somewhere where he was constantly receiving care it'd be easier on the both of you."

"I'm fine. Neither one of us need any help. And if you feel that strongly I can arrange for other care for the children while I'm picking up Booth." She roughly pulled her coat on over her shoulders. "He won't do well without me. And I wouldn't fare any better not being with him. He was in remission before and he will do it again."

"I didn't mean to-"

She tore into him with little concern for his feelings. "I would die for him, dad. I would do anything to get him through this. I know how sick he is. I am well aware every time I look in his eyes how he's struggling. This situation we may have gotten into isn't ideal. But I love him. I love him more than I'd ever thought possible, and probably more than you could ever understand. I refuse to turn my back on him!"

"Okay. I just-"

"Furthermore, he's not going to die! I'll be back shortly." She snatched her keys and was out the door before anymore could be said. The door rattled in its frame from the effort she took slamming it behind her. _How could he even suggest anything? _She seethed as she slid behind the wheel.

Booth was near delirious when she helped him from the hospital into her car. He slept on the drive home. At a stop light she shifted in her seat to watch him. _What if dad is right? What if he'd receive better care elsewhere? _Immediately she was berating herself for such thoughts. Booth was not dying! She was taking fine care of him!

At home he nodded to Max. Brennan tugged him upstairs to their bedroom before either one of them could start a conversation. She laid Booth down in their bed. Before leaving she checked to be sure of his comfort level. From underneath the bed she pulled out a large bowl which she left by his side in case he were to get sick with no one around, as he often had after therapy. She was turning away when he grasped her wrist. "Hey."

She glanced back at him.

"Smile."

"Booth."

He propped himself up on one elbow without loosening his grip. Tenderly he kissed her. "Smile," he requested in a whisper. "I love you, Bones."

His touching gesture did indeed invoke a real smile. "I love you too, Booth." _I don't know what I'd do without you. I don't know what I did without you while you were missing._

He laid back down with closed eyes. She kissed his forehead. "We'll be all right."


	124. We All Fall Down Sometimes

As the weeks wore on the problems within the Booth household only escalated. Alyssa grew increasingly irate day by day. Though she bullied both her siblings it was Riley she especially took her hostility out on. Almost daily the child was being punished for some sort of aggressive behavior. Booth and Brennan were at a loss. To pacify her Booth did his best to spend as much time as he could with his daughter. But his treatments were leaving him hardly able to function. His best was no longer good enough. Nap times soon became his saving grace for her. Those were the only times she'd allow herself to rest. Even the nights had become difficult, as she'd rarely stay in her bed. In the few times she did she'd scream and cry until Booth came to soothe her. He'd no more lay her down to sleep before she'd be kicking and yelling all over again. The episodes scared both parents. "Maybe we should consider some sort of therapy for her." Brennan under toned one night while they lay in bed together listening to her holler.

"She's only two and a half."

Brennan continued to give her father the cold shoulder. He'd kept his opinions to himself from there on out. But his thoughts had done their damage. Every time she watched Booth struggle she couldn't stop herself from wondering if he would have been better off in someone else's care. The others at home required a good portion of her attention, therefore making it impossible to devote her time to him. There were times in which she knew he really needed her, such as being ill upon arriving home after his treatments. But the rambunctious children kept her occupied. Max offered his services to her. "I could move in, Tempe. I think it would be better for everyone. You could spend more time with Booth that way."

"No. Thank you." She'd sniped at him in a clipped tone. "I can take proper care of my family on my own. I won't require anything additional beyond what you are already providing."

Booth was giving what strength he had left in helping to parent. More often than not however he laid in bed, unable to do much else. Walking up and down stairs left him breathless and exhausted. His head ached round the clock. Constantly he was dosing himself with morphine, shooting up again the moment it wore off. In the mornings some time would pass before he would be able to function accordingly. Brennan tried to assure herself that this all was worth it. It would pay off in the end when Booth was cured. Only Dr. Merck killed those aspirations. "The tumor isn't responding to the chemo," he told her one afternoon when she'd arrived to pick Booth up. "I still don't feel comfortable trying to remove it. But at the same time it's spreading. I want to increase his therapy and try a different drug, but it may come down to making a decision soon."

Brennan's stomach had clenched. Nausea had her fighting for air. "What are the potential risks of doing the surgery?"

"Paralysis. Memory loss. Death." He'd shrugged. "I wish I had another answer. I just don't."

Brennan was fast running out of steam. Her optimism fizzled. Those around her had no clue of her sudden negative thoughts. But she couldn't deny how she was feeling. The helplessness she was experiencing all over again. Amanda couldn't have her way. She wouldn't allow it. But what more could she do? What more could anyone do?

That evening after learning of Booth's medical truths she sat outside on the front stairs of the porch with a glass of wine. The babies were all asleep in their beds, and so she'd brought a monitor outside with her. Tightly she shut her eyes and let the alcohol fuzzy up her thoughts. For once she didn't want to think. She didn't want to be a genius. She wanted to just _be_.

Fifteen minutes had passed when the screen door opened. She didn't get a chance to turn completely around before Booth was sitting himself down on the step behind her. His hands touched her shoulder blades, kneading them not before long. She groaned deeply. His touch was damn near orgasmic. When he swept her hair to one side and brought his lips down to caress her neck her sensation only heightened. "I miss you," she blurted.

"Let me take care of you tonight." He begged quietly. "You're worn out, Bones."

"Booth," she chuckled. "I appreciate the thought. And you're right. I am tired. But there's no way you are up to caring for me. I don't even know how you got down here."

"The stairs." He scoffed. "Same way you did. What? You think I flew?"

She laughed softly. Then sobered. "I know what your idea of "taking care of me" is. And I very much want it." She leaned back against his chest. He responded in wrapping his arms around her tightly. "I want it so much. But we can't. You aren't getting better. Dr. Merck told me today-"

"I know he did. I know all about it. But screw it. Screw all of this. I want a night with my wife. And if she's up for it I'd like to treat both of us."

She smiled slightly, rubbing his arm still grasped around her. "Am I doing the right thing for you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm just… I'm worried you aren't receiving adequate attention here at home. I can't keep up with all of you. It destroys me to admit it, but its true. Max keeps offering to move in. To help. I don't want him here. I resent that he is convinced that I can't take care of my own family. But its true. I can't." Her voice broke with tears.

"Hey, Bones. No. That's not true. I'm fine, all right?"

"Now you're lying." She swatted a tear off her cheek.

He exhaled deeply. Never did he let go of her. "So maybe I need to go away for a while. Maybe I should go back to Charleston. See about continuing that other treatment."

"We don't even know if that helped." She argued immediately.

"My body's not responding to the treatment I'm getting here. So what's the difference?"

"No!" She snapped in a strong voice. "Dr. Merck is going to change your medication. He believes that will be of more help. You absolutely cannot go to Charleston. Those drugs were harsh on your body. You became so ill. I won't risk it!"

"Okay, okay. Take it easy." He craned his head to kiss her cheek. "Relax, okay? Just relax."

Full tears arrived. The alcohol was bringing out the truth in her. "I can't let you go because I can't go with you. I can't have us separated! I can't be without you, Booth. I just can't." She sobbed. "I can't let you go to stay here completely unaware of what is taking place with you. I love you. I can't. I can't-"

Booth removed himself from her. He lowered himself instead down on the same stair besides her. She fell into his arms, crying into his chest as he pulled her in with strong arms. "I just hate to see you like this. I won't leave though, okay? I won't go anywhere. I promised that. Remember? I promise again. I'm right here."

There in his safety she let herself fall apart. All that had been welled up inside her spilt out. She felt him stroke her hair. He crooned soft comforting words into her ear but she was too lost in her breakdown to make sense of them. He kissed her forehead before tilting her chin upwards to kiss her on the lips. "It's all right. I'm going to be all right." He proceeded to kiss her tears away.

After a while she had no more left to give. She remained pressed up against him. The realization of what she'd done and how it must have affected him left her feeling shame. "I'm sorry. It's the alcohol. It's altered my-"

"No it isn't."

She heaved a breath, and shook her head bitterly. "I'm supposed to be the strong one."

"We all have to lose it sometimes there, Bones. You've been too strong for too long. It's okay to show yourself, you know. This sucks. You can say it. In fact, yell it. Right now." He commanded.

"What? No. You're being absurd."

"Come on," he insisted. "I'll yell it with you."

"We'll wake the kids."

"One-"

"Booth!"

"Two…"

"You're really going to make me do this? Are we yelling it instead or three, or after three?"

"Just yell." He nudged her. Together they screamed out their frustration upwards at the heavens. She chuckled at their silliness. Surprisingly though she did feel a bit comforted. There was less darkness in her soul. Booth grinned at her. "Better, right? Told you. Now come on. Lets go lay down in bed. We can sleep or not sleep. We can talk or not talk. It doesn't matter. I just want you to feel better."

"That's the same thing I want for you. Booth, that's _everything_ I want for you."

"Lets go, then."

She allowed him to lead her upstairs. He brought her into their bedroom, shutting the door behind them in case Alyssa decided to again pay them a midnight visit. The roles were reversed as he took charge of her. Over her head he slipped off her shirt, dropping it to the carpet. She was no more rigid than a rag doll, which allowed him to maneuver her in whatever way he wanted without resistance. He lowered her down into their bed. She was kissed lovingly as he undid the fastener on her jeans and slid them off of her hips. Those too, along with her shoes and socks were tossed carelessly onto the floor. He was covering her with a blanket when she stopped him. "I change my mind."

"Huh? Change your mind about what?"

She wrapped a fist in his shirt, forcefully tugging him to her. "Take care of me," she whispered to him. "Take me." Tonight there would be no more questions asked. His health wouldn't be a concern. Their love overthrew any other thoughts. She wanted him, and that was all there was to it.

And he was too thrilled to oblige.


	125. Always

Author's Note: Yes, this chapter is a tear jerker. Stay with me because it's going lighten up.

* * *

The weeks that followed brought forth new challenges for the both of them. Yet it seemed as Booth's condition deteriorated their love for one another only strengthened. Every dreaded disaster had them clamoring for one another through an invisible storm that rattled their foundation. While Booth dealt with his storm clouds Brennan had a few dark clouds of her own. Her body was giving her indication after indication of a pregnancy. She was doing her best to conceal her symptoms. But Booth had discovered her vomiting in the bathroom more than a few times. He'd never asked of it. Instead he'd wipe off her face and hands with a cold, wet towel. He'd kiss her forehead, her cheeks. He did his best to repay her for all the kindness and patience she'd shown him.

With Booth getting sicker and Brennan running herself quite literally into the ground, Max became insistent upon his daughter taking him up on his offer to live as a stay in nanny, of sorts. She was in no mood to hear it as he returned one morning with the same plea on his lips. Just a few hours in and she'd already had a bad start. Alyssa had flung her bowl of cereal at the wall during breakfast. She'd then proceeded to push Danny down hard onto the kitchen floor. The tot was just beginning to learn how to walk and still unsteady on his feet. The boy had taken quite a bit of consoling in his mother's arms before righting himself. Alyssa just smirked at them. Something soon would have to be done of her behavior. But how on earth was something as serious as Booth's illness to be explained to a child who wouldn't comprehend it? At the same time, "daddy can't be around as much right now," didn't seem to be any better. Their daughter would continue to act out.

As if that hadn't been enough she'd had difficulty getting Booth out of bed. He'd been motionless for hours during which he should have been readying for his routine therapy visit. She'd tried twice to get him on his feet to no avail. Finally she'd thrown in the towel. He'd prepare when he was fully ready. At another time she probably would have been rightly concerned over his exhibited behavior. The mornings were still terrible for him but he was always able to follow through on his responsibilities. However that morning she was just too stressed to notice.

She let Max in without a word. He followed her straight into the kitchen where she dropped down to her knees to continue cleaning up the mess Alyssa had made. "Wow." Max observed. "Someone have an accident?"

"My daughter hates me." She shot back with heavy irritation.

"She doesn't hate you-"

"Yes, she does. She's angry at us. She is her father's child," she scrubbed furiously at the wallboard. Milk had gotten into the faint cracks and already begun to dry. "And until he is well there's little she wants to do with anyone. I cannot relate therefore I cannot help her. She is hurting and I cannot do a thing about it." The sponge dropped from her hand. She struggled not to cry. "I can't help anyone."

"Whoa now. Hey." Max brought Brennan up onto her feet. "That's not true."

"Alyssa is hurting. Booth is worsening. And I can do nothing to ease either one's pain. She doesn't understand, and he just wants to pretend." A tear slipped down her cheek.

"You need help, Tempe. Please. Just let me move in. You can't keep running yourself ragged. It might do Alyssa some good. If she can't have dad she can have grandpa. Next best thing." He promised her in a warm, upbeat voice. It was almost too much for her to bear. "I just… the best I can give you right now is my word that I will think about it."

"That's good enough, I suppose. Why don't you let me clean up here, and watch over the children? You go upstairs and tend to Booth."

"Booth." She repeated numbly. Yes. Her husband whom had yet to emerge from the dark cave of a bedroom he'd created. She picked up the pieces of her emotions and took them upstairs with her, ready to have them shattered into smaller fragments. "Booth?"

He was sitting on the edge of their bed. A pair of jeans were slackened around his hips, having yet to be buttoned. One brightly colored sock was on. His muscles weren't cooperating as he tried to yank a shirt on over his head. Brennan didn't think. She took over. Although he wasn't too happy to have to wife help dress him, Booth was mum. He hadn't showered, or so much as combed his hair. Now there was no time left for grooming. "Booth," she ran her fingers through his hair. He jerked slightly away from her. "Stop." He commanded, shakily climbing to his feet. He toyed with the zipper until he got his pants fastened.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm tired. I'm so _fucking _tired." He winced. The butt of his palm pressed tightly against his forehead. Brennan noticed he was paler than usual. For whatever reason that morning he really seemed to be wrestling himself. "My dad is really seeking to move in with us. He thinks his presence would be beneficial."

Booth gave no outward reaction. He focused on keeping his balance as he stepped into his shoes. "Would that really be such a bad thing, Bones?"

She didn't care for the direction in which the conversation was heading in. "Do you think it's necessary?"

"I think… I don't want to think about it right now." He limped to the door. "Lets just go."

She ushered him downstairs. Booth kept to himself. He barely acknowledged Brennan's father. Outside in her car he slid himself low in the seat. The brim of the baseball cap he'd put on to cover his thinning hair was pulled down over his eyes which then closed. To one side his head tilted. By the time she joined him in the driver's seat he'd already fallen into a state of semi consciousness. She wasn't the least bit surprised that his exhaustion had caught up with him. He'd been outrunning it for too long.

Booth slept while she drove. Her thoughts were in tune to the rhythm of his soft sleeping sounds. All along he'd been the bravest one of them all. He'd been his own cheerleader, as well as hers whenever she was noticeably feeling down. His positive spirit had kept her going through her darkest hours. The love and affection he'd shared had been admirable. She knew he had his bad days, as they all did. There were still nights in which his dreams had him waking in a cold sweat, reaching for her and trembling with all the strength he had. Those little glimpses into his psyche would never fade away. But overall through deathly illness he'd been the champion. It worried her immensely now to see him so beaten down. She tried to assure herself that after a proper amount of rest he'd be back to himself. "Maybe I should allow Max to move in."

They were no more than a few miles away from the hospital when Booth began gasping. His muscles tightened. His jaw clenched. He cried sounds she'd never heard before. Her heart skipped a beat. "Booth?" Gently she pried the hat away from his head. To her horror he was the whitest she'd ever seen.

For a brief moment his eyes opened. They stared outside the window while his shoulders continued to heave. She'd just started to repeat his name when his body succumbed to a seizure. Quick she was to pull onto the side of the road. She didn't bother wasting time exiting the vehicle. She hauled his body into her arms and held onto him with all of her might. Just as the last one he'd had the episode lasted for several minutes, much longer than expected. When the energy burned itself out he came to a rest. Throughout his body she could feel his frantic pulse. "I have to get you to the hospital." She under toned to him. "I'm sorry."

* * *

"I'm sorry, Dr. Brennan. I really thought we'd have more time before it came to this."

Brennan wasn't sure she wanted Dr. Merck to continue. She looked to Booth who was sleeping peacefully. It'd been two hours since he'd been admitted through the emergency room. An array of updated tests and scans were conducted. The man who had once needed all the sedation in the world available to him laid limp, allowing whomever to do what was required to be done to him. At times he was conscious. Others he slept. Sometimes he didn't seem to realize where he was. "The brain tumor."

"I think surgery is our only option left."

She shook her head. "He was fine yesterday," she spoke in a strained voice. Her throat was closing in on her.

"No, he wasn't. The tumor just hadn't advanced yet to the stage in which it's in now. I can set him up for emergency surgery first thing in the morning."

She couldn't tear her eyes away from him. "What are his chances of survival?" She was unsure of why she desired to knowledge. It was only through nerves of steel that she was keeping her composure.

"He's got a mild fever. His blood pressure is elevated."

She held up her hand. The message was clear. Booth's sudden voice out of the blue shocked them both. "Charleston. Those treatments." He forced an eye open.

"Are you asking if you can do them? I can't say that they helped you."

Booth licked his lips. His mouth was parched. "Can't say… they didn't either." He noticed Brennan holding a cup of ice chips. She fed him one upon seeing his interest.

"It'd be a silly notion at this stage in your illness to pursue it. I will get you booked for first thing in the morning. We'll take this step by step as we need to. Lets not fear the worst right from the beginning. His symptoms are expected."

Booth glared as hard as he could in his state. "I want to go home."

"What? Booth! No!" Brennan chastised. "You have to have this surgery! You'll die. Do you understand?"

"Tonight." He insisted. "Just tonight. We can," he was growing faint. He lowered back down onto his pillow. "Come back in the morning. I want… my bed." His eyes closed. "Can't keep… I'll sign…"

"It will be suicide if he goes home overnight." Dr. Merck warned.

"Yes. He's been told that before." But she had every intention of signing him out. If Booth wanted his own bed on the eve of a life changing surgery, then she damn well was going to give it to him.

* * *

"You're staying for the next few days." Brennan barked at Max the minute she and Booth arrived home. He left her standing alone to give him further information while he took himself upstairs. "Booth has to undergo surgery tomorrow morning. I imagine he'll kept in the hospital for a while, if this is anything like his last procedure."

"Is it his brain tumor?"

She lowered her eyes. "Yes. He had a seizure this morning." After she'd arrived in the emergency room she'd only phoned Max to tell him they were there, no other details. "The tumor keeps growing. It isn't responding to the chemo. His wish was to be home tonight rather than an uncomfortable hospital bed. This week and perhaps next I will need someone here to help with the children." It killed her inside to accept his help. But Booth was more important than pride.

"I'll be here for as long as you need me."

Satisfied, Brennan followed in Booth's footsteps. He'd already collapsed down in their bed. She shed her clothes and laid next to him. The blankets were pulled up over their bodies. It was a tie between them as to who was more exhausted. Her eyes were refusing to cooperate to her demands that they stay open.

Booth rolled onto his stomach besides her. He wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her close. "Someday," he whispered in her ear. "We're gonna get away from all of this, Bones. There's gonna be no more sickness. No more drama. No Carreys or anyone like him. We're gonna get away. Just you, me, and the kids."

She loved his fantasies. "Where will we go?"

"Doesn't matter." He slurred.

"You have to pick somewhere."

"Alaska." He nodded seriously. "I'll train sled dogs. You can dig in the ice for cavemen or whatever."

She decided she wouldn't point out all of his inaccuracies. "The babies would be awful adorable as Eskimos."

He chuckled. "As long as we're together, it doesn't matter. And you know," he lifted himself up slightly so he could gaze down upon her. "Even if we get separated, I'll always come back to you. I just want you to know in case I'm not around to tell you, that you are a strong, beautiful woman. I wouldn't have survived without you. I can't imagine how I ever lived my life without you."

"Booth." She cried.

"I'll always be with you, okay? Always." He cradled her close. They fell asleep in one another's arms.

* * *

In the morning Brennan woke alone to an empty bed. The sheets where Booth had once been were frigid. But the smell of his shampoo and after shave still hung in the air. "Booth?" She swung her feet around the side of the bed. "Where are you?" The silence frightened her. Had he fallen? Were his words last night some sort of dying declaration? Did he know he wouldn't survive to see the dawn? She shivered.

In the bathroom a note was taped to the mirror. She tore it off.

**Bones,**

**By the time you read this I'll already be on a bus to Charleston. I don't know if I've got it in me to survive the surgery. And I'm not ready to give up. Right now the treatments are the last chance that I've got. This was a decision I didn't want you to have to make. Whatever happens is on me now. I'll call you when I get there. Please don't be mad at me. I love you.**

**I'm with you,**

**Booth**

She sat on the toilet, reading his letter over and over again to herself. What was she supposed to do now?


	126. Independence Day

A civil war took up battle within Brennan's mind. All morning while laying in bed she was quiet with the tug of war that was ravaging her thoughts. Did she attempt to track Booth? Did she leave him be? He'd chosen to leave in the manner in which he had for a reason. He'd been hoping to spare her of such a difficult decision. _How do you know I wouldn't have chosen this for you? _She mentally inquired him. She knew she wouldn't of, and he'd been aware of it as well. The surgery was risky but unavoidable. Sooner or later as Booth continued to decline they'd be forced into it. Their options were slim. Choosing to throw faith into an unproven cocktail of medications shouldn't have been one of them, in her opinion. But what was done was done. Booth had fled with the midnight shadows. Sick as he was he was still attempting to shield her from the lemons life had handed them.

Knowing her father was downstairs, she took her time wallowing in her own pity. He was washing a few dishes in the kitchen when she at last emerged. "Booth's gone," was all she was able to say to him.

Max dropped the dish he was scrubbing in horror. All of a sudden she realized how her words sounded. "He left for South Carolina over night."

"Oh." He laid a hand over his chest. "Give your old man a heart attack. Go after him."

"I can't imagine he wants to be found. He left without informing me of his plans-"

Max stopped cleaning. He braced her shoulders. "Go after him. He needs you. You know he does."

She lowered her eyes. "He thinks he's protecting me. I wish he'd understand that in being foolish like this he's just making the situation harder for me."

"Then go to South Carolina and tell him that. Don't let him go through this alone. Whatever his intentions were aren't true to himself. It's like I said before. Everyone wants to be found, whether they admit it or not."

"I suppose you're right." She managed something resembling a smile. "Thanks, dad."

He kissed her forehead. "Go pack, all right?"

Her life from then on out was a blur. She haphazardly tossed items into a suitcase. Given she didn't know how long she would be staying it was tough to plan accordingly. Whatever was needed that she didn't bring along she chose to purchase once she arrived. As an afterthought she filled another bag with items of Booth's that he'd left behind, bringing along some of his favorite personal possessions. The tokens had the potential of proving to be useful.

Alyssa was not happy to learn that her mother was leaving. Max had long ago sat down with a mug of coffee in the living room. The beverage had gotten cold and been forgotten on the coffee table in front of the television. Alyssa seized it in her petite hands. She waddled into the kitchen and hurled it at the floor with all her pint sized might. Max and Brennan came running. The child stared defiantly at both of them. "Daddy!"

"She knows Booth left." Brennan under toned.

"I'd say she knows you're leaving, too. Smart little cookie, this one. I'll clean. Just get ready to go."

She felt bad abandoning him but did as told. The luggage was hauled down to her car. One last time she returned to the house to say goodbye. The twins cuddled against their mother. Alyssa allowed an embrace for so long before swatting at her. With a saddened heart she placed her back on the floor. Max touched her shoulder. "When things return to normal she will, too."

"What if she doesn't?"

"Leave it to grandpa, okay?"

The hell her father had put her through growing up was not erased from her mind. But she did her best to trust him. With a kiss goodbye on the cheek she left.

The trip took longer than she anticipated. Of course, the distance was the same. But the _rush, rush, rush _being whispered in her head made every passing mile feel as though it took an hour to drive. Whenever a chance arose she checked her phone for any missed calls. Booth's note had promised he'd phone when he arrived in Charleston. As of yet she hadn't heard anything. Either he'd forgotten or… she wouldn't allow herself to go any further than that. He'd forgotten or was sleeping. Simple at that.

The sky had darkened when she finally pulled into the parking lot of the hotel Booth had stayed in before. She'd assumed that was his choice. Given its close proximity to the ocean, it made sense. Something about the water soothed him. Whatever eased his pain, be it emotional or physical, was not taken for granted. Hell, she'd buy him a body of water if that was what it took to make him feel better.

Her intuition led her straight to the barrier wall. Up and over it she leapt. Her feet landed solid in the sand. She did a general scan of the ocean front until she found Booth. He was far from where she'd uncovered him before. A blanket was sprawled out underneath his body. He lay on his side. As she drew close to him she could see he was resting. His respirations were slow. His color was gray in stark contrast to the baby blue shade of his blanket. He was still save for the motions of his breathing. Down besides him she knelt on one knee. "Booth?"

Seconds ticked by before his eyes opened. He stared straight ahead, and she watched over him as the wheels turning in his head tried to process. She laid a hand down on his upper arm. "Please, look at me." She requested.

There was another delay before his eyes raised to hers. He tried to smile but it wasn't easy. His facial muscles didn't want to cooperate. "Thought you'd find me." He slurred.

The journey had taken more out of him than he'd obviously bargained for. She tried to restrain herself. Her tears wouldn't serve either one of them. "I debated, but ultimately decided you shouldn't be alone." Her touch swept to his forehead. He was burning up. "I need to take you to the hospital. You need immediate care."

"No." He paused. "I have a treatment tomorrow."

"No, Booth. You're too sick for that. You don't have enough strength. I don't know how well your body is going to handle the different medications being filtered into it. You were healthier than this before and you became severely ill. I don't think this is an option anymore."

Delicately he rolled onto his back. "Can't," he finally murmured. "I have to do this, Bones. It's my last chance."

"No, it isn't. We can still do the surgery. It's not too late."

His eyes closed. He quieted as his body grew motionless. She was frantic with alarm when he came back to life. "This is… it is too late. I have to do this. I need you," he tilted his head to her. "To listen to me. Even if it feels wrong. Let me have this. Bones, let me take control."

She winced against the pain she felt. "Do you realize what it is you're asking me to do? Booth, you can't think rationally. You're far too ill to be able to make coherent decisions regarding your care. I can't just let you go. You're asking me to let you die."

He inhaled deeply. "I'm asking… you to trust me. Please."

"But what if you're wrong? Booth, we don't know enough about these treatments. All I know is that statistically your chances are poor, taking into account all the others who have attempted to relieve their cancer with these drugs. Only a small portion survived. I can't overlook that. And you're getting sicker." She shuddered. "You're _so_ sick."

"This is right." The bit of interaction was leaving him exhausted.

"How can you know that?"

"I just know."

"No! Your gut instinct isn't good enough for me this time! I need proof!" She needed so much more than what he was able to offer her. But she just couldn't operate on his blind faith in unproven methods. "Come on. I want you to lay down in your room."

He had difficulty rising to his feet. In walking from the beach to his hotel room he stumbled several times. She was relieved to lay him down in bed. Before they could continue their debate she gave him aspirin to lower his fever, and then a dose of morphine. "I'm sorry." She said softly as she saw the last energy within him begin to fade. "I strongly feel we should go home tomorrow."

"I still get a say." He insisted weakly. "I'm doing this, with or without your support. I have to." Sleep wasn't long coming to him. "I have to," he repeated one last time before he slipped under.

She exhaled. Just as she predicted there would be no stopping him. She could only fasten her safety belt and hold on for the bumpy ride.

* * *

It was decided in the doctor's office the following morning that Booth would receive three days of therapy a week for an entire month. From that point testing would be done to check for any progress. Brennan was unhappy but allowed Booth to take the lead. That first night upon returning to the hotel she'd questioned her sanity. Booth had broken out into a fever long before they'd left the facility. All night he laid in bed gasping with the chills as his body raged red with a fiery, hot anger. Aspirin didn't touch it. A cool cloth did little more but to increase his shivering. All night she remained awake with him fearing the worst; debating hospitalizing him all throughout his delirious mumbling. In the predawn hours at last the symptoms eased up. He fell into a deep sleep that kept its hold on him for an entire day. He'd woken just in time to begin the routine all over again.

The first week or so was definitely the worst. But though his body adjusted to the fierce onslaught it was dealt with, the ailments left behind in the wake never truly stopped. As it was his time was occupied with rest. The fevers lowered in the severity, but still left him bathed in warmth. Pulling himself out of bed required superhuman energy that most of the time he lacked.

Indeed, Brennan's worry was making her ill. The nausea and vomiting continued to visit her on a daily basis. No matter how calm she tried to keep herself she still constantly fought off sickness. In exasperation she at last broke down and made an appointment with a doctor at a nearby clinic. Booth slept in bed none the wiser when she'd left him. She'd chosen to go on a day in which he didn't have therapy. Booth's focus needed to remain on himself, and knowing there were issues surrounding her would tear all of his attention away. There was nothing to fret about until there was, if there would be.

Dr. Goodill performed a routine check up, additionally acquiring both blood and urine samples. He listened patiently as Brennan described her symptoms. "Sounds to me like you're pregnant," he told her.

"That was my first thought. But the test came back negative."

"There are such things as false negatives, just as there are false positives." He finished his exam. "We'll know more when your test results return."

She thanked him. Her mind was awash with rapid fire thoughts. It just wasn't the right time to be pregnant, therefore she couldn't be. Booth was right. He was so ill that he couldn't have impregnated her. _Then again, he felt well enough to engage in intercourse. _"What am I going to do?"

She returned to the hotel to find Booth sitting up in bed. He was watching television while nibbling on crackers she'd purchased for herself. Next to him on the nightstand sat an opened can of Sprite. He smiled at her. "Hi, Bones."

She was blown away. This was the most activity she'd seen out of him in weeks. "Hi," she murmured back stupidly.

"Where'd you go?" The slurring in his words wasn't as pronounced. His eyes twinkled at her with a light of satisfaction. He was pleased he was able to take care of himself once again.

"I… had an errand I had to run. Booth, did you get these items yourself?" She gestured to the crackers and soda.

"Well yeah. After I took a shower I was kind of hungry. I saw these sitting on the counter," he held up the wrapper. "And I found the Sprite in the mini fridge." He frowned at her. "Why are you looking at me like that? Did I do something wrong?"

"No. It's because." She laughed. It'd been so long since she'd been able to do so that happiness bubbled to the surface. "Because the treatments are working." In amongst her laughter arrived the tears. "Because you're getting better."


	127. Starts With Goodbye

Booth only continued on his incline. By that weekend for the first time in months to Brennan's delight he was strong enough to stroll around the town with her. "We're going to have a date night," he'd decided that morning while nuzzling her neck as they laid in bed together.

"Booth, I don't know."

"C'mon. I don't have a treatment today. I'm feeling good. Lets go out and celebrate." He'd perched himself over her. His hands kept his balance pressing down on the mattress on both sides of her hips. Those brown eyes that weakened her turned her into mush as he'd used them to beg her, and paired them with his best charm smile. His head had tilted sideways.

She sighed. "Your immune system is extremely vulnerable. Yes, you are improving. But any germs right now could be the death of you."

He'd kissed her protest into silence. Then he'd again caressed her neck, kissing her behind her ear. She caved. "That's not fair, you know."

He'd laughed, dropping down onto his back and pulling her on top of him. "One night, Bones. One night to forget about everything. Just give me that." His fingers had tangled in her hair.

She couldn't prevent herself from kissing him. Whatever he wanted within reason, she would give. For one night she could give him the gift of an ignorant mind. She'd do her best to overlook the potential downfalls of being out around others. "All right."

Later in the morning while he'd been in the shower she'd received the call she'd been expecting. Though Booth was unable to hear she'd gone outside for some added privacy. Dr. Goodill had given her a conclusion to their suspicions. "You're pregnant."

She'd sat herself down on the sill outside their window. Her stomach tied itself it knots. She inhaled a deep breath, exhaling it slowly. Dr. Goodill recognized her reluctance. "I'm sorry that's not what you wanted to hear."

"It isn't that it's terrible news. Under normal circumstances it would be wonderful. But given the severity of my husband's illness… it just isn't the right time." She rubbed her hand over her face. A sudden thought near knocked her off her feet. "He's been undergoing chemotherapy. The chemicals were in his body during the time of conception. Is there any risk to our child? Is it in danger?"

Dr. Goodill hesitated. "I'm not confident discussing this matter. My recommendation is that you return home and begin seeing a high risk pregnancy specialist. I think you should probably stop traveling as well. It places stress on your body, and you're already under enough pressure."

"Stop traveling? Go home?" She was dumb founded. "I can't do those things. Booth's treatment is based here in South Carolina. This service isn't available yet in Washington D.C." She supposed she could see if she could find a doctor in D.C. that would administer the medications to Booth. But seeing as they were likely unfamiliar with the combination of medications and the side effects, she wasn't comfortable with the thought.

"I'm sorry, but that's what I strongly urge you to do. I understand all the controversy surrounding your husband. But your baby needs to be a priority as well."

She hung up both frustrated and melancholy. This should have been a happy announcement. But firmly she reiterated to herself that the timing was all wrong. Yes, it hadn't been right with the other children, either. But the idea of having four children while taking care of Booth was too much. Max would be around to help. And she knew if necessary she could hire someone else to assist. But she'd prided herself on being the one to take care of her family's needs. Shamefully she realized the flaw in her logic. There was nothing wrong in asking for help. But she couldn't completely allow herself to be all right with it.

The door opened. Booth poked his head outside wearing nothing more than a towel. "Hey," he noticed her crestfallen expression. "What's wrong? Is everything all right?"

She swallowed another lungful of air and forced a smile. "Yes. I was just talking to Max. Alyssa is still acting up."

He frowned. "We'll be home soon, right? No reason to worry. Come inside."

The remainder of the day was a blacked out blur. That evening Booth requested they go see an action movie that had recently arrived in theatres. Brennan numbly agreed. She sat besides him in the dark surrounded by others, watching him more so than the movie. Not that it made much sense to her anyway. It certainly wasn't her cup of tea. But to Booth the simple activity seemed to mean so much more. She could understand why. There was a time not too long ago it came across as being unlikely he'd ever be able to participate in leisurely pursuits ever again. Just that they were sitting there together was a small victory. He reached for her hand. She held his tightly. The love she felt sitting in her chest induced her to tears. How could she leave him? Who would be there to love him? But how could she not care for herself, in turn caring for their baby?

After the movie they strolled the boardwalk. An ice cream shop drew his attention. She gave in to another pleading grin. Soon they were walking hand in hand licking at vanilla cones. The night was warm and clear, perfect to be out and about. Booth sat them down on the concrete edge of a fountain. A statue of a mermaid spit turquoise water high into the air. The pool shimmered with loose change; hopeful wishes by people of all ages. Just how many of those wishes had come true? Any of them? Wishes were meant for children. But Brennan knew the power they had over gullible adults. She almost wondered if she could bring herself to be that flippant. Any bit of luck to help them.

Her eyes strayed from the water when she realized Booth had stopped speaking. She glanced up to find his eyes studying her. "What's the matter, Bones? You haven't been yourself all night. Actually, you haven't been yourself since this morning, after you talked to Max. Is this thing with Alyssa really bothering you that much? I mean, she's just a baby. This is a phase. I'm going to get better and go home and everything will be fine again, okay?" He kissed her and held her in his arms. "I'm going to get better. I'll take care of it."

She bowed her head. "That's not it. I wasn't on the phone with my father. I didn't tell you, but I went to see a doctor because of my nausea and vomiting. I had taken a pregnancy test at home, and it was negative. I believed it was just stress, but I decided I should see a professional."

Booth pulled away some. He swallowed, and tilted her chin to look him in the eyes. Whatever her next words were to be, he was already visibly shaken. Frightened. "What is it?"

"I _am_ pregnant. It was a false negative." She wiped at her eyes.

He grew to be stoic. "Wow." He finally murmured in shock. "But I… but we… I can't…"

"You can." She chuckled. "You very obviously can."

After a hard exhale he embraced her again. "Okay. Okay, that's better than what I was thinking. I know it seems overwhelming right now but we'll handle it, Bones. We can get help."

"There's more." Another tear fell. "Because we got pregnant while you were doing chemo my doctor suggested I see a high risk specialist back in D.C. He doesn't believe I should continue to be making trips to and from South Carolina."

Booth's shoulders lowered. "But… I can't leave."

"I know." She openly cried.

He stared down at the water. "Maybe I can. I mean, I'm doing better, right? I can probably just have the surgery and be done with it."

"You're not ready for that."

"They said a month-"

"They said they'd _check_ you in a month. Not that you would be ready to_ leave_ in a month." She pointed out. "You have to stay here. There's no way around it."

"And you need to be home." He sighed.

"Not… not necessarily. Not if I… if we don't…" She had trouble saying the words. "Keep it."

He jerked straight up. For several tense minutes he was quiet. At last he whispered in a strained voice, "I really want to tell you that its your body, and its your decision. But I can't." He too began to cry. "I can't do that. I'm sorry. I can't. If you don't have this baby…"

"I don't want to not keep it." She acknowledged. "But what do I do? You have to be here."

"And you have to be home. You have to go." He wiped his eyes. "You need to take care of yourself, and our baby."

"Who's going to take care of you?"

"Me." He tried to smile confidently.

"No. You get too sick from those treatments. You can't be alone."

"Then…" he shook his head. "Hire a baby sitter for me. But you need to focus on your own health now. Let me worry about myself." He kissed her forehead. "I'm getting better, right? So this won't be for that long. Another month and I'll come home. I'll come home." He promised. "We'll get through this. It won't be that bad. I'm just going to really miss you."

"I'll miss you." She wept into his shoulder as he held her tight. "I'll… I'll leave in the morning."

Together they remained for hours by the wishing fountain. When they returned home they made love one last time, falling asleep safe inside one another. In the morning Brennan put off packing her bags for as long as possible. Neither one were able to say a word to one another for fear of breaking down. Booth knew a mere look would have him begging to have her stay. He needed to be strong. To hell and back he'd gone through alone so many years ago. This was unthinkable, but not impossible. He wouldn't do as well without her. But he'd survive.

She wasn't so positive, only her disbelief was in herself, not him. How would she be able to cope without him? Without being by his side through every step of the journey? Without truly being aware of his ongoings? His struggles? His triumphs? After so many years… how could she not spend her life with him?

Somehow they muddled through. Booth loaded her luggage into her car for her. She held in tears as the two faced one another. He too, had red eyes. "I'll be home soon," he whispered for the umpteenth time. "Just take care of yourself, and the little guy. That's what you can do for me now."

It wasn't enough. She shook her head and clung to him. "I can do this. I'm strong."

"Yes. You are. You're brave and strong and wonderful." He praised her. "But you need to go. You have to."

"I know." She kissed him hard, gripping his arms like she couldn't possibly let go. The thought of it was taboo. But she knew it needed to be done. And so in the end she let him walk her and sit her down inside her car. He couldn't allow her to leave without kissing her just a few more times, his tongue tasting her and recording everything about that moment. It was a memory that would get him through the lonely times ahead. Finally he had no choice but to pull himself away. "Go." He breathed. "Or else I'll be getting in with you."

They both cried saying their last goodbyes. Booth leaned against the door to the hotel room, watching her drive away and doing his best to keep himself together. Their separation would just be another motivator to continue getting better as fast as he could. They'd be together again soon.

Yes, they'd be together again soon.


	128. Face To Face

"What? You're what?"

Brennan glanced down at the untouched salad sitting in front of her. She smiled reluctantly, feeling the expression was more forced than natural. "Yes. I'm pregnant again."

Angela's eyes were the shape of perfect symmetrical O's. The two friends had met for a late lunch at an outdoor café. Brennan had been home for exactly two days. On the drive she had called her father to explain the situation. He was waiting for her with open arms at the front door when she arrived home. Alyssa was just behind him. Her small face was aglow. She gave Brennan no more than a moment's glance before peeking past her. Not seeing her father accompanying her mother, her disappointment made itself most obvious. She slunk away without acknowledging any other family member. Brennan sighed. "I see you weren't be to get very far with her."

"Don't take it so hard, sweetie. She loves you. But she's a daddy's girl."

She couldn't pretend that the dismissal didn't hurt. But as Max had said all along, it was likely Alyssa's temperament would right itself once Booth came home, and stayed for good.

And while Max hadn't been surprised at the news of her newest pregnancy, Angela was flabbergasted. "Obviously you weren't planning this."

"No. We didn't believe we'd be able to get pregnant. It's our own fault for not planning accordingly. Just… when we're in that moment…"

Angela's eyes sparkled. She smiled wickedly. "Fireworks."

"I think about that year he was gone. I think about everything he went through, and everything he's continuing to endure. I think about what my life would be like if I were to lose him." She blinked back tears that stung her eyes. "And so when we reach that point of intercourse, logically I know the risks but I just… I don't care. I don't think about it. I just want…"

"You want that moment of ecstasy."

"It's not just the sex. It's his strength. It's easy for me to believe that he'll recover from this reoccurring illness. That moment reminds me that there are certain things within him that are untouchable. I want to achieve that with him. It's only afterwards that I remember we did nothing to protect ourselves. It's foolish and irrational. Every time."

Angela chuckled. "It's love, babe. Eternal love. Speaking of which, why are you home?" After Brennan went on to explain the risks of the pregnancy and being urged to see a specialist, she interrupted, "aren't there specialists out there? I thought Charleston was a pretty big town."

"I'm sure there are. But Dr. Goodill recommended I come home, and stay here. He thinks the physical and emotional stress will take its toll, and cause potential problems. Booth thought it was best as well. I believe he thought neither one of us would be healthy if I were to stay. We'd be too focused on one another. It bothers me to have left him but I did so out of necessity." She chose that moment to peer at her phone. "His first treatment without me there is today. He'll be taking a cab to and from the clinic. But the symptoms he has after the treatment is administered are difficult for him to deal with. I'm hoping he'll call me." Actually, she wasn't sure what she'd do if he didn't. Her stomach was already turning itself inside out.

"He's alone? Why don't you hire a nurse or someone to be with him?"

The churning was forcing bile into her throat. She took a small sip of water. "He's not comfortable with it. He requested I not do it."

"No offense, sweetie. But to hell with what he wants. If its risky for him to be on his own-"

"I don't want to risk anyone getting hurt. He still doesn't trust all that well, Ange. Particularly strangers. I know what is mindset is while he's fighting off the side effects. It's not safe for anyone he's not familiar with." She thought of two frightening instances in which Booth had hallucinated in his feverish state. As she was unrecognizable the fit he'd flown into had nearly injured them.

"Then hospitalize him."

"The clinic has no association with the hospital. I am unsure if they'd be able to dispense his treatments there. And besides, Booth doesn't care for that idea either. I'm a conundrum. I want what's best for him but I also want to honor his feelings. I am going to keep this plan for now and reassess from there."

Angela clearly disagreed. "I hope it all works out for you. I just know if it were Hodgins and I-"

She was interrupted by Brennan's rotary ring tone. The display indicated that Booth was calling. A finger was raised as she answered it. "Booth? How are you?" She winced at the sound of his heavy breathing.

"I'm… cold." His voice was slowed, his words almost joining together. In her mind she could picture his heated up cheeks. The sweat drenching his body. "Are you back in your hotel room?"

"…yeah…"

"Did the hospital give you anything before you left? They were supposed to give you some medication." Brennan had informed the clinic of the extra care Booth now required in her absence. They'd been happy to assist.

"…yeah…" He coughed, and in turn expelled a breath that shook with the intensity of his trembling body. "I… need… I…"

"Booth, please-"

"I need you."

She shut her eyes tightly. This just wasn't what she needed to hear. Since she'd left she'd been second guessing her decision. Their decision. "I can't even see you," she moaned without thinking. She had no idea if his ailment was worse than usual. Over a phone line she could do nothing for him.

"You… have… you have… to stay." He paused. "It's okay. She's… coming… for me."

Brennan gasped. She covered the mouth piece to whisper to Angela, "he's delirious." Directed at Booth she asked, "who's coming?"

"It's… she's gonna make… everything better. It's warm."

"Booth."

"She can't touch me anymore."

She didn't need to ask to whom he was referring to. "No. She can't."

He let out a groan that tore through her heart. Abruptly she left the table. She jogged to a private alleyway where she could let go in isolation. "I shouldn't have left you. I'm so sorry."

"Sleep," he murmured. "Tired. So cold."

"Just try and sleep. But leave the phone on. Lay it next to you." She squeezed her eyes closed. Her voice choked. "I need to hear you breathe."

Angela jogged up minutes later. She saw how distraught her best friend was. "Sweetie? What is it? Is he that bad?"

Booth had fallen asleep. His rapid gasping was muffled. The phone had dropped from his grasp. That didn't stop her from straining to listen. "I don't know. I don't know what he's experiencing. I can't see him. I should be there!"

Angela grew silent in thought. "What about a web cam? I mean, we could get a laptop to him and set up a camera. He could just always keep it on so you can watch over him. Then you two could speak face to face, so to speak. And having a computer with the internet would be entertainment for him on the days in which he doesn't have treatments."

Brennan stared at her. Genius. It was absolute brilliance! She threw an arm around her shoulders and hugged her tightly. Angela chuckled. "You're welcome. Just get him a laptop with a webcam. I'll deliver it to him and set it up."

From lunch they headed straight to an electronics store. Brennan wanted to buy Booth a fancy laptop with all the bells and whistles included. Angela halted her. "He doesn't need all that. All he needs is a way to communicate with you, maybe listen to some music, and be able to read about whatever sports games he's missing."

Brennan agreed with her after thinking it over. "I just want the best for him."

"I know."

Angela waited until the following morning to leave for South Carolina. Brennan spent the remainder of her afternoon and evening with her cell phone firmly pressed against her ear. She listened to Booth's unconscious nonsensical ramblings. She listened to every breath; every sigh. Her chest throbbed with the sadness of not being able to take care of him in his hours of need. That night while she tried to sleep with the speakerphone activated she mostly laid awake. Only after she begun to hear Booth relax was she able to drift off. In the morning the connection had been lost.

In the early evening hours she was just making dinner for her family when her phone rang. "Brennan." She answered while continuing to stir a pot of rice.

"All right sweetie, this is what you are going to do." Angela began in a hushed voice. "Around eight thirty tonight you're going to go to your computer. The children are usually asleep by then, right?"

"Usually. Alyssa can be fussy." So what else was new? "But I can always have my dad watch her."

"Good. Do that." The call ended before Brennan could grill her for more.

Brennan's attention was taken for the rest of the night. Minutes counted down like hours. After a bit of play time after dinner she couldn't lay the twins down fast enough for the night. The two were fast asleep before their mother had even left the room. Alyssa wasn't quite so easy going. For close to an hour Brennan did all she could think of to try and get the child to sleep for the night. Max assisted but was unable to get much further than her. Time was running out. In exasperation she scooped up her daughter, carrying her into her bedroom with her.

Following Angela's phone call she'd set her laptop up at the bottom of her bed. Now she sat down in front of it cross legged. Alyssa was placed in her lap. A sudden pop up on the screen drew both of their attention. Booth was trying to start a conversation. "You want to talk to daddy?" Brennan asked her daughter. Alyssa squealed with delight. She placed her hand on top of her mother's while Brennan clicked the "accept" button. The small box disappeared, and there was Booth directly in front of her. He was laying in bed. The room was darkened, with nothing but the computer's glow to shine some light on his exhausted face. Seeing Alyssa, he brightened instantly. All traces of his illness were gone. Brennan was taken aback but the sudden transformation. "Hey, Lissie."

"Daddy!" She screamed. Her fingertips extended to touch the screen.

"How's my little girl?" He tried questioning her. Alyssa ignored him. She didn't understand how she could see and hear her father, but wasn't able to physically touch him. Booth looked up to Brennan. "Hi."

"Hi." She murmured with tears in her eyes. "How are you?"

His eyes saddened. "I miss you. So much. I wish I could come home."

"You are where you need to be. Just as I am. I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow."

He sighed. "I should be there with you. I'm sorry, Bones."

"There's no reason to be sorry. Just get well. I miss you, too." Being away from him during such critical times in both of their lives was difficult to handle. But at least now with having this technology they could see one another. It wasn't the best, but it would do.


	129. Breaking The Tension

**Author's Note: **This chapter is **definitely ** for **mature audiences only. **It's more or less a response to a challenge I was issued. Also thought this chapter would be a good break in all the angst.

* * *

**A Few Weeks Later**

"All right, Alyssa. It's bedtime. Say goodnight to daddy."

The precocious child sitting in Brennan's lap was none too happy to hear the words that she'd learned to dread. Bed time. Time to sleep. Another night without her father. He was still stuck in the rectangular screen. Seeing him, hearing him, but not being able to feel him physically was baffling to her. Where had he gone? Why wouldn't someone let him out of the box? "No," she tried to protest weakly. Every night (when she was permitted to. For some reason sometimes she wasn't allowed in her parents' bedroom to see her dad) followed a routine. In the end Alyssa always lost. She was forced unhappily into her crib. That didn't mean she wouldn't continue to attempt her protests.

Booth smiled warmly. "Lissie, you gotta sleep, okay? Every night you sleep is one day closer to me coming home so we can be together again."

Alyssa was unsure of what he meant. But hearing him talking about their home excited her. Eagerly she nodded at him. She tilted her head back to study her mother. The woman seemed just as pleased. If that was the case then maybe he was coming home soon! She'd both seen and felt her mother's sadness other instances in which the three had talked. She'd assumed it was because daddy was locked in the box. That emotion made her want to lash out, to be surly and fight with her siblings. She didn't know why, or how else to express herself.

"Love you, Lissie."

She turned her attention back to her father. "Love daddy!"

Brennan removed her daughter from her legs. She carried her into her room where she laid her down in her crib. Her lips affectionately kissed her forehead. "Goodnight, sweetie."

"Fra," she demanded first. There was no way she was going to sleep without her stuffed frog!

Brennan searched until she found the toy hidden underneath the bed. She placed it down next to Alyssa. "Love you."

"Love momma!" Alyssa tucked herself in and closed her eyes. Brennan lingered, observing her for a few moments before leaving. A few weeks of daily visits with her father and Alyssa had turned herself around. She still acted out at times, as they all expected. But gradually her smiling, shining personality was returning.

Booth was laying down in his bed when Brennan joined him again. He had a pillow pushed in between his bicep and his head. He was no longer hiding how exhausted he was feeling. The treatments were abusing him. But they'd come to learn that the brain tumor had indeed shrunk some. Their efforts weren't in vain. Any doubts they'd had about Booth remaining in South Carolina were dashed. Even if he was tired and sick, he was getting better. She was sure another month or so and he'd be set for his surgery. Then they could give all their focus to what they'd both rather think about - her pregnancy.

So far all had been progressing with no complications. She was toying with asking her doctor about making the trip back to Charleston, and staying there. Seeing two doctors wasn't ideal as she'd been warned about but she'd make do. Booth was acting tougher than she knew he felt. They both would only benefit from one another's support. On the weekends she was sure her father would bring the children by to visit. Although she was hesitant about Alyssa seeing her father in person. Booth could liven up for her for an hour over a camera. Spending three whole days doing it was another story.

She sat down on her comforter and folded her legs. "She was asleep before I even closed the door."

He grinned a little. "Good. I wish I was there with you, Bones."

"I know." He always mentioned how much he missed her every time they spoke, be it over the internet or on the phone. "You will be soon."

"Not soon enough. The doctors were talking about stepping up my treatments. Adding a day."

She was horrified. "You're only just tolerating three days a week now. How will you handle four?"

His eyes darted away from the screen. It was a sign. She knew he was planning on going through with it. Deeply, she sighed. "Please don't do anything until I talk to your doctors."

"Maybe." He murmured vaguely. His hand picked at some fuzz on the blanket beneath him. Her gaze centered in on his fingers before tracing the outline of his bare torso. She inhaled sharply to hold in the surge of desire that stirred. Her pregnancy may have been going well, but her hormones were raging out of control. She couldn't recall the last time she'd had such strong cravings for sex. Cravings that manifested themselves in her dreams. More than once she'd woken shaking gripped in such intense feelings that she didn't understand how she was alone in her bed.

"What?" He laughed, noticing her unflinching stare. She blinked and shook her head. "Nothing. No. It's not appropriate."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Now you _have _to tell me."

She lowered her eyes in shame. "I miss you so much, Booth. But lately because of the pregnancy… my libido…"

He snickered. His eyes narrowed into a look she knew well. "You want me, huh?"

"You're sick, Booth. It's not right for me to be feeling-"

"It's not like I haven't thought about us." He exhaled. "You know, when I feel up to it. You're not the only one with a libido, you know."

This was interesting. "What do you think about?" She asked coyly.

"What? With us? Sex. Things I'd like to do to you. The way you'd react."

Though his room was dark save for the light of the computer monitor she still saw him blush. Four children (five if you counted Parker) later and the topic of sex still made him feel shy. It was endearing to her. And in some ways a relief. There definitely had once been a time he would have skirted this talk all together.

The stirring was now throbbing. "We need to stop." She chuckled at herself.

"Why?" He sat up a little with a smirk. "Are you turned on right now?"

"Booth," she spoke his name in a warning tone. "Stop. You are in Charleston and I am here. There is nothing we can do. And I absolutely forbid you to take an eight hour bus trip home for a sex adventure."

He all out laughed. "No, no. I got an idea. The kids are asleep, right? And your dad?"

"Yes. The children are asleep and my dad has been residing in the basement. And I have the bedroom door shut."

"Good. Lay back."

She glared at him. He was amused, and was almost as bouncy as a little boy. "Come on. Just trust me. Lay on your back and relax."

She could have refused. But truthfully she was curious as to what he had planned. Out she swung her legs. Sideways she laid so she could continue to face the screen. Behind her head she put a pillow. "Now what?"

"Close your eyes and think of paradise. Whatever your version is of paradise. And it better not be the lab."

She grinned. Before her eyes appeared a tropical paradise. Maybe Aruba, had they been there long enough to see the beautiful areas of the island. She stood in the middle of tall green grass dotted with palm trees. To her right was a sparking crystal pond with a waterfall cascading down from a cliff. Behind it was a small alcove. The sunlight shining through the streaming water rainbowed its effect.

Booth's voice broke through. "Are you there?"

"Yeah. I found it."

"Okay, good. Now imagine I'm there."

She whirled around. Booth was making his way through the waving grass. He was dressed in no more than a pair of jeans that were slung low on his hips. He wore a tan that made the skin on his chest radiate. His finely toned muscles were difficult for her to ignore. She exhaled a sigh just looking at him.

"Okay. I'm making my way over to you. I'm kissing you, and touching your body."

In her fantasy Booth met her with a kiss. He cradled her face with his palm, stroking her cheek affectionately with his thumb. His opposite arm snaked her waist to pull her in close to him. She breathed his scent. Her lips parted to allow their tongues to touch. God, how she'd missed this.

Booth went on to describe his actions, only she didn't so much hear his words as she dreamed of all he had to say. He untangled himself from her, seizing her hand and silently encouraging her to follow him. The couple splashed into the warmth of the pond. Booth twirled her around. He backed her up so that the waterfall was raining down on the both of them. She smoothed her hair back away from her face. The lightweight gown she'd been wearing was now soaked, and left little to the imagination. Every curve was exposed. Booth made a growling noise low in his throat. He brought her to him again, his subdued passion much more alive. His hand cupped one of her breasts. The contact heightened her arousal. She wanted more. Now. He seemed to be feeling the same way, as he whispered into her ear, "come on," and guided her behind the falls.

An oversized lime green blanket laid spread out over a floor made up of smooth rock. Booth lowered her body down onto the fabric. He kissed her a few more times before nearly ripping the gown away from her skin. From there he picked up where he'd left off outside. He kissed the length of her neck. Those roughened hands massaged her exposed breasts. Her eyes shut tight. All she wanted was to experience him.

His mouth took the place of his touch as his fingers moved on to caress lower areas of her body. He tasted the salt water drying on her skin. He circled the area around her nipple, flicking it with his tongue before nipping softly and moving onto the other one to repeat his motions. Her occasional gasp changed into a satisfied cry. She tried to reciprocate only to have him refuse her. "This is for you," he whispered in her ear.

He balanced the backs of her knees over his shoulders before lowering himself to her groin. She moaned the instant she experienced his warm mouth locking down over her most receptive of areas. There was no keeping herself from pulling at his hair. He chuckled. "You like that?"

"Don't stop." She pleaded.

He set her body on fire with little more than the use of his tongue. Bit by bit the intensity she felt increased until she was sure she was going to explode. Then abruptly just as she was about to release, he stopped. All together he backed away from her. Her eyes popped open. She sat up, breathing hard. "What are you doing?"

He'd stood only to undo his jeans. She rose to her feet feeling dizzy and trembling. He allowed her to kiss him, using the embrace as a distraction to finish removing his pants for him. Down to the ground they fell where he stepped out of them. Up into his arms he lifted her. Back against the cave wall a small piece of smoothed rock jutted out. On top of this he set her, leaning her shoulder blades against the wall and pulling her hips out towards him. She'd barely had time to notice that from that angle their hips were at the same height before he was pushing himself inside her. Her yell echoed off the walls. Around his waist she clamped her legs. Her nails pawed at his shoulders, leaving light red welts as she tried to pull him in tighter to her body.

He thrust a continuous rhythm. His forehead bumped hers. The two stared deep into one another's eyes, each mirroring their own love and hunger for one another. It was too much for Brennan; the final piece that pushed her over the edge. She climaxed, near screaming. Her body pushed into his as her back arched. Her reaction seemed to get him going. After a few more thrusts she felt him stiffen, a hissed moan muffled into her shoulder. The couple gazed at one another, their gasps dissolving into laughter. "I needed this." She told him.

"I know."

The Booth who responded to her was no longer her fantasy, but her real husband. Her eyes opened. She was humiliated to find herself naked and wreathing in their bed. On her computer screen Booth had sat up. His eyes were wide in disbelief over what he'd just seen.

She wasn't sure if she'd ever felt so embarrassed. Sure, she'd done crazy things with previous boyfriends. But this? Well, the wave of pleasure she was still riding didn't make her entirely regretful. "Where are my clothes?" She breathed.

"You took them off and threw 'em." He snorted. "I can't believe that happened. I can't believe I did that to you. Good to know I can."

"You're an amazing man," she agreed. "But what about you? What can I do for you? It isn't fair for an act like this to be one sided."

He waved her off. "Don't worry about me, Bones. I'm not feeling up to it anyway. Save it for me for when I get home. Besides, what I just saw? That'll keep me going for a while."

She bit her lip. "I'll always save your place."

They said goodnight and clicked off. Brennan found her shirt (which was actually Booth's) and pulled it back on over her head. She laid down underneath the sheets and closed her eyes. If tonight was any indication then things would soon be all right. Booth wouldn't allow himself to be taken down easily.


	130. Help Is On The Way

"_Booth!" Brennan screamed as loud as her body would tolerate. She took the stairs leading down into the basement fast as she could without falling. He was here. She knew it. For months he'd been held captive. But that was all about to change. She'd tracked him down through her own sense of detective work. Now it was time to bring him home._

_The stench of blood and bodily excrement halted her. Over the course of her lifetime she'd encountered her fair share of foul smells; so much so that little bothered her anymore. However this disgusted her, likely because she was sure she knew the source. Not that it deterred her from pushing on. Little would. Booth was depending on her. _

_She shined a high powered flashlight through the darkness. His pale skin caught in its beam. A relieved tear trickled from her eye as she hurried to him. "Booth! I'm here!" Down onto one knee she collapsed besides him. "Booth?"_

_His body was half concealed by graying, dirty cable knit hospital blankets. He was turned up onto his side facing away from her. With gentle hands did she bring him down onto his back. His broken face revealed the truth long before she thought to check his pulse. She'd been too late to play his savior. He'd died waiting for help that had never come._

_Through a crushed heart she forced herself to study him in detail. The longer she shined the light over him did she take in little details. While his face was in tact, crumbling dirt holes nicked parts of his head where his brain should have been. Her hands trembled as she peeled the blankets away from his flesh. More holes loitered in the spaces of his lungs, his heart, his ribs, and his abdomen. His arm bore a hole, as did his shoulder. Incredulously she shook her head. "What happened to you?" She whispered to his lifeless form._

"_He's dead. That's what happened. You're too late." Amanda's voice cackled. Frantically Brennan scanned the darkness with her flashlight. No earthly form was anywhere to be found._

"_You're _always_ too late."_

Brennan woke feeling as though she was dying. Her lungs had shrunken into the size of grapes. A vice grip squeezed her heart. She sat up, and did her best to calm herself with logic. This was all explainable. She wasn't having a heart attack. She was suffering an episode of panic following an intense, terrifying nightmare. Anyone would be experiencing these symptoms having had dreamt about the tortured death of their husband.

After a few moments rationality won the battle against her body. She was able to breathe normally again. Her pulse settled. Still she didn't think she'd be going back to sleep any time soon. She needed to distract herself. Her eyes wandered to her darkened laptop screen. This nightmare was a expression of her heart's desire: she needed to speak with Booth. But for a while now he hadn't exactly been forth coming. She seized the baby monitors to her children's rooms before rolling out of bed.

It'd been a few weeks since she had experienced that wild ride Booth had put her on using only his voice. She'd realized in the days following that tirade that she'd never felt closer to him. Which was why it was to her surprise when she noticed him begin to pull away from her. Their nightly conversations became sporadic. He did his best to pacify Alyssa, but often by the time Brennan had laid the child down for the night and returned he too was fighting to stay awake. His energy was tapped out. The ravaging symptoms from his treatments were suddenly kept to himself. He no longer called her deliriously begging for help. Whenever she tried to question him he'd brush her off with prepared answers. "I'm just tired." "I don't know, Bones. I think I'm fighting something off." "I came home and fell asleep after my therapy. I didn't think you'd mind. I need rest."

Something was being withheld from her. She was just unsure of what. She'd tried phoning his doctors at the clinic. They were unaware of any of his developing behavior. "Everything is as normal," Dr. Robin, the main physician in charge of Booth's care, told her over the phone. "Nothing's changed."

But something _had_. And while in the past she knew Booth had requested his doctors respect his privacy, she suspected she was being told the truth this time. Booth had either taken up something recreational that was raising havoc with his system, or he wasn't lying to her. If anything she'd believe the first over the second. She knew how willing he was to roll the dice if it meant returning to health sooner. Or if it had the potential of canceling out some of his pain.

In the kitchen she made herself a glass of ice water. Then she went outside to sit down on the steps of the front porch. Over the monitors she could hear the babies sleeping soundly. Alyssa had thrown such an intense tantrum before settling to sleep that night that Brennan had been genuinely frightened. The child had screamed red faced for her father. Her tiny fists had shook the bars of her crib with all of her might. Brennan had been so astounded that it had taken Max to swoop in and ease the child's anger. This was another clue to her that something was wrong. Booth loved his children. He wouldn't just suddenly disappear knowing the hell Alyssa was going through without him.

"What are you doing awake?" The front door opened behind Brennan. Max stepped out, shutting it behind him. "I was surprised to hear you moving around."

"I had a nightmare about Booth. I tried to save him from Amanda but I was too late. He'd already died." She remembered the dream in detail. "He had holes in him. The circumference of them were filled with dirt. It my dream it made no sense but, I believe now they represented everywhere he's had tumors. Where the cancer has gotten to him both previously and presently. Anyway, I couldn't fall back asleep."

"I bet not." He sat down besides her. "Certainly not after that. You still haven't heard from him?"

"Not exactly. Not coherently. I'm fortunate if he answers his phone."

Max nodded thoughtfully. "Sweetie, you can't go on like this. What are you going to do?" He watched her. "What would you _like _to do?"

"Leave." She breathed without hesitation. "I want to go back to him, dad. This game of not knowing is making me ill."

"So why don't you?"

"Because my doctor recommended I stay here. You know that. But I did ask at my last appointment how awful it would be if I went back to Charleston. She said it wasn't urged, but at the same time she didn't think it would be harmful to my child. And I know it isn't ideal but I could switch doctors. For him I'd find a way to make it work."

"Then go, Tempe. Moping around here isn't doing anyone a bit of good. And I suspect he needs you a lot more than he's willing to believe, judging by his behavior. He doesn't just do things to be spiteful."

"No. Ordinarily his actions are out of love, and perceived protection of me. That's why I am so concerned."

"So go. Really. I'll watch the kids. Everyone will be fine."

She needed no further coaxing. In fact, she had it in mind to leave then and there. "I was thinking some weekend when Booth is feeling up to it you could bring the children for a visit."

"That sounds like a plan. We can always discuss details later. In the meantime, go find him and be sure all is right with him."

Brennan left him with the monitors. She hurried back inside. Though she'd been home for quite some time she'd never bothered to unpack her suitcase from when she'd left. She threw in a few extra pairs of undergarments and necessities before closing up. In the dark she dressed in the first outfit she touched. The last thing she needed was to disturb the children. Alyssa may have been angry at the world but she was unsure how well she'd take her mother leaving again.

Max saw her to her car. "Call me when you find him." He kissed her cheek.

"I will. Thanks dad." She slid into her seat. A flick of the key in the ignition and she was off.

* * *

Brennan drove off the remainder of the night. The sun rose with the passing miles. Soon she was within the Charleston city limits. She chose to forgo the hotel in favor of the clinic. It was late enough now that she was sure Booth had gone for therapy. Her hope was to ambush him in the middle of it. She wanted to give him little opportunity to escape her, which she had a feeling might happen. She knew how slippery he could be when he was avoiding her.

She'd never expected for him to be absent from the clinic. "It's not his day for therapy." Dr. Robin explained.

"Yes, it is. It's Wednesday. He's always been on a "Monday, Wednesday, Friday" schedule."

The good doctor frowned. "Yes, I was meaning to talk to you about that. When you called me before questioning his behavior I neglected to tell you this. I guess I assumed he had. His therapy was increased to four days a week. He's now here Monday and Tuesday, with a break on Wednesday before continuing Thursday and Friday. I'm sure the change in his demeanor is partially based upon that."

She didn't like the sound of this. "You seem as though you know the other reason."

He sighed. "Yes. The medicinal cocktail he was receiving was switched out in place for stronger medications. I strongly advised against it, but there was just no talking to him. He insisted on beginning the higher dose."

It was beginning to make sense. The exhaustion. The coughing spells. He knew she'd never approve of the increasing severity of his symptoms so he'd hid from her. Battling the momentary evil for the overall good. "Has he been checked?"

"We do a good job of monitoring him while he's here but once its over he's in an all fire hurry to leave."

Gradually she nodded. "He received one of these treatments yesterday, correct? So he should be back at his hotel."

"One would assume so. But I would have no idea where he goes."

Brennan numbly thanked Booth's doctor. She climbed back behind the wheel both anxious and fuming. Booth wanted to improve as soon as he was able to. She could understand that. But being deceitful to achieve his means was not acceptable. A real argument was what she had in store for him once he was located.

She drove back to his hotel. Outside his room she pounded on his door. "Booth! Let me in!"

There was no answer. No sign of him. Drawn curtains prevented her from peeking in the front window. After five minutes she admitted defeat. But not for long. She stalked to the service desk. All of the associates working remembered her, and knew well Booth's plight. Not much wheedling was needed for her to get a spare key card to his room. Within seconds she was pushing her way through his door. "Booth?"

The room was empty. His suitcase sat opened on the floor, showing evidence of being rifled through. His laptop sat on a dresser besides the television with the lid shut. The sheets on his bed were rumpled. If he'd left then he hadn't been gone long, as obviously housekeeping had yet to be there. "Where would you go? You don't even have a car."

A muffled noise made her do a double take. There was one area in his room in which she hadn't checked. The bathroom. Quietly she tip toed across the carpet. The door was mostly closed but had been left ajar. Slowly she pushed it open, unsure of what to expect or if there was anything to expect. What awaited her was worse than she could have imagined.

Booth was sprawled out on the floor. His clammy skin was coated in shiny perspiration. Heavily he breathed through his mouth. The front of his shirt had small stains that upon closer inspection Brennan was sure were blood. More of it was smeared by his mouth. She gathered he'd been vomiting it. "Oh my God, Booth." She knelt besides him. "We need to get you into bed."

He showed no acknowledgement of her. No questioning of how she'd gotten in his room, or why. She gripped his arms and felt how his skin burned in her palms. Their combined efforts just barely brought him up onto his feet. He staggered his way to his bed where he sprawled out. She'd just begun to get him settled when he began wiggling to try and remove his shirt, which clung to his skin from sweat. Brennan tugged it off of him. She retrieved a few cubes from the ice bucket sitting on the sink. Nothing more than her hand traced the coolness across his chest and arms. It had little effect on him. He trembled, but it had nothing to do with the ice rapidly melting on his body.

For the next hour she alternated her methods of trying to cool him down. A check of his temperature told her his fever was approaching dangerous proportions. She had no desire of taking him to the hospital, but felt as though that may have been their only option. "You can't continue to take these medications," she told him uselessly. He wasn't hearing a word she was speaking. She wasn't entirely positive he knew who she was. The way his gaze stared off into nothingness made her question everything.

Throughout the day he gasped and shook, having a low grade seizure before he began to break through to the other side in the late evening hours. He'd been peacefully sleeping when he woke with a groan. Brennan had been laying besides him. She watched him now come back to life. Once he noticed her he exhaled a harsh breath. His eyes shut again. Maybe he was still coming out of the drug induced effects but he knew well enough to know he'd been caught.

"You can't do this," she said gently to him. "Booth, I about put you in the hospital. You've had a fever, and been vomiting blood? How long has this been going on? These medications are too much for your body to handle. I'm sorry, but you have to stop."

His rough voice cracked. "I want to get better, Bones."

"I know. But this is killing you, which deems the therapy to be worthless. There's other ways. We'll go back to the old treatments. Yes you were sick, but it was tolerable. It may not be as fast of a process, but it's been working. It _will _work. I'm going to stay here with you, for however long it takes." While he'd been unconscious she'd been doing plenty of thinking. Plans were formed; plans she intended on carrying out. Now with absolutely no intentions of returning to D.C. anytime soon, it was time to act.


	131. Visitors

Brennan's first item of business was finding a house for her family to live in. The next morning while Booth had slept off what was left of his drug induced hangover she'd scoured the real estate ads, both online and from a local paper. A day was all the time she'd needed to find them a house located directly on the beach that was up for rental. The dwelling was far larger than what they needed. But beyond that the rest was perfect, as the lease was month to month and the home came completely furbished with furniture. She'd made plans to move them in immediately.

Booth had gone along with the idea. At first. He hadn't appreciated the transferring of her prenatal care, and had strongly encouraged her to return home. "I'll be fine," he'd insisted.

"No. You need someone here to look after you, Booth." She hadn't spoken her true thoughts, being that she didn't entirely trust him. Without her supervision she knew he'd pick up where he'd left off with his harsh therapy. After seeing how ill he was she wouldn't allow it. "Our child will be fine. I will see the doctor I have chosen here until it's time for us to go home. Then I can resume my care there."

"It's a risk. I don't like it."

"I refuse to leave you again."

He hadn't the strength to fight with her. Their argument had ended there. She'd checked them out of the hotel and brought them to the beach house. Booth had taken a brief tour before he'd collapsed into bed in their upstairs bedroom. He'd slept straight through the evening until it had been time for his next treatment. Brennan attended, and spoke her mind to Dr. Robin. It was agreed between the two of them that the severe treatment would stop. His only regime would resume. Booth let her know of his disapproval with his silence. But he didn't insist he get his own way, either.

That night while Booth battled his fever Brennan made a call home to her father. "I would like it if you would bring the children tomorrow."

"Oh. I can do that. Just for the weekend, right? What should I pack?"

"No. Not for the weekend. I rented a house. We'll be living here until further notice. If you would come too, and continue to sit with the children for us-"

"I'd be more than happy to, Tempe. We'll be there tomorrow afternoon."

Again, Booth had been angry to learn of what she'd done. "I don't know that I want them living with us, Bones."

She was appalled. "Why? Don't you miss them?"

"Of course I do! How could you even ask me that? But I don't want them seeing me like this."

Brennan hadn't understood. "They saw you this ill at home, Booth. The twins are too young to comprehend your state. And I firmly believe Alyssa will better with you consistently in her life again." She felt their daughter would liven him up as well. "She doesn't care about your appearance. She just wants you."

Booth had shaken his head. "Sometimes I wish you'd just let me die," he'd growled menacingly before storming outside onto the beach. She'd been too shocked to prevent him from leaving. Sometime later when she'd recovered enough she gave chase to him. He wasn't all that far from the house, laying on his back in the sand. In a single look she could read his regret and sorrow. Down besides him she'd sat, cradling him in her arms until the sun retreated and the stars came out to greet them. Their mum pity parade had returned to their bedroom. Booth had picked up where he'd left off by falling asleep in her arms. Brennan laid awake and worried. Booth had been angry, yes. But she couldn't help to think his impromptu words had been more than that. He'd spoken his concealed feelings. That light of hope he'd been running on was dying out. Something more needed to be done for him now; some sign greater than the ones he'd been given. She needed to ignite his flame.

* * *

"_Seeley?"_

_A blinding white light burned straight into Booth's retinas. He lifted his hand up to shield himself. The voice speaking to him was awfully familiar. As the light faded against a black backdrop he recognized his mother. "Mom?" He shifted his eyes from her to himself. No longer was he a full grown adult. Where ever he'd gone, he'd been transported back to childhood._

_His mother bent down in front of him. "It's okay. You've been a good boy. It's okay to come home now." She touched his cheek. "There's nothing left to be afraid of."_

"_What do you mean?" Was she referencing his alcoholic father? To the past he'd left behind? Or to the future he was hurtling faster than the speed of light towards? Was the ghost of his mother informing him it was all right to move on?_

"_You've been through so much. It's safe now." _

_He lowered his eyes. "I don't think I'm ever safe. Not from anyone. Not from myself."_

"_You can come home, Seeley." She repeated. "I think it's time to stop running."_

* * *

Unlike with most of his dreams Booth didn't wake with a start. Fresh tears were in his eyes long before he opened them up to the darkness that enveloped the world. Night had long ago set in, and he'd slipped into a coma like sleep on the sofa watching television. No one had woken him, and judging by the silence in the house his family was asleep. He was grateful for the moment of solitude.

It'd been three days since Max had brought the children down to live with them. The change of scenery in addition to having her father back in her life was the best medicine for Alyssa. She'd reverted back to the delightful child she'd once been. Her days were spent permanently fixated at Booth's side. Often at night she ended up in bed with them as well. He was surprised he was alone on the sofa.

Up he shuffled to his feet. Quietly he limped into the kitchen. In the refrigerator a cold six pack of beer sat eagerly awaiting his retrieval. The alcohol wasn't for him, of course. Max had purchased it for himself. But then and there, Booth didn't care. He'd pay the old man back. Since it was unlikely he would be allowed sedatives anytime soon alcohol would have to do to dull his emotional pain. And having had enough of dealing with any kind of pain, he was willing to do almost anything to block it all out. Had there been enough alcohol he would have drank enough until he'd blacked out.

The darkness of the house was exchanged for the midnight air and the bleached sand. He sat himself down. The beer hissed as he popped the tab on the can and guzzled. The opaque light of the moon brought his dream back to his conscious thoughts. It'd been years since he'd had any kind of dream relating to his mother. When he'd been a child the first few months following her death he'd dreamed of her nightly, usually being reduced to tears. His father hadn't tolerated it. Certainly he didn't want his son's sadness over his late wife. He didn't want any son of his to be a crier, period. Booth had near had the dreams beaten out of him. He'd learned quickly that keeping his mental pain to himself was better than the physical pain his father put him in. From then on he never spoke of her to anyone in his family again.

"_You can come home, Seeley." _He fell down onto his back. What did that mean? Anything? What was home? Who was she speaking to? A runaway child, or an ailing adult? Was it a genuine sign or just an assurance conjured by his mind? _Let go. _He squeezed his eyes shut. Could he really? Most days he felt as though it wouldn't take much to stop his heart. One too many shots of morphine and the misery as he knew it would all be over.

"You can't seriously be thinking that."

A female voice. _Not _Amanda. He was taken by the sound of Riley's voice. His eyes opened to find the apparition of his deceased friend standing over him. Her hands were on her hips. That trademark smirk curved her lips. "An overdose on morphine? Suicide? You should be ashamed of yourself for just thinking it."

He flicked his eyes over her coldly. "This coming from someone who allowed herself to be murdered by her boyfriend. Your opinion means shit to me."

She dropped down onto her knees besides him, her legs folding under her rear. She flattened her plaid skirt over her lap. "Don't be mean, Booth. It doesn't look good on you."

He exhaled. "I came out here to drink in peace, all right? To not think and not feel for a while. And if you're not here to help with that then you can leave."

"What's wrong with thinking and feeling? It's better than being dead inside." She argued.

"Look, no offense to the state you're in," he gestured to her ghostly form. "But right now? I'd rather be dead. No one has any idea how I feel. The pain I'm in is getting to be greater than the morphine. I'm guessing that means I'm developing a tolerance. My doctors tell me I'm getting better but I don't feel it. Bones had to drop in to stop my increased treatments. She won't follow her own doctor's advice but she thinks she can just run my life for me. I didn't want this." He threw his arms open wide towards the house. "I was perfectly fine in my hotel room doing this on my own. I don't need help!"

"Yes, you do. She ended those treatments because of the toll they were taking on you. Fast and strong doesn't always win the race. You know that. You would have died. Your body can't handle that kind of strain."

He ignored her, continuing his focused rant. "And even if I do get better? If I can have the surgery? So what? I'm not cured. It won't be long until something else pops up somewhere else. I don't want to live like this anymore."

She frowned deeply in sadness. Tentatively she took his hand. "You don't mean that. You're mad and you're drunk. You shouldn't be mixing alcohol with morphine. You can really hurt yourself by combining the two."

He glanced to the beer in his hand. Gradually he set it down next to him. His head was bowed as she continued on. "You have children who are depending on you, and would be lost without you. Your wife is risking her own pregnancy just to make sure you're taken care of."

"I don't want her risking anything for me."

"But she is, because she loves you that much. She'll never give up to you. Do you think its fair to give up on her? Yourself?"

His eyes raised to the heavens, again thinking of his mother. "I don't want to give up. I just want this pain to end. I want my family to be happy. I'm a burden, Ry. I should be taking care of Bones. Not the other way around. And yeah, I'm angry. And I'm resentful. I think I got a right to be."

"You do." She raised his chin to look at her. "But you have to keep fighting. It's not just about you."

"I know that." He searched her face. "I miss you." And he did. Above it all Riley had always been his friend. She'd been someone he was able to relate to during one of the worst periods in his life. Though he'd been able to move on from her death a part of him always remained with her.

"Little piece of advice? Don't waste your time with negativity and hate. It goes by too fast. You'll survive, Booth. You aren't a quitter. You're a fighter. You'll figure this out."

He opened his mouth to speak again, only to be interrupted by a voice behind him. "Booth?"

Behind him Brennan stood bundled tightly in a light weight jacket. The wind tugged at strands of her hair. "Who are you talking to?"

He glanced back to find himself alone. "No one, Bones. No one."


	132. Somewhere In Between

Brennan had distinctly heard Booth talking to himself. Or someone else; someone only visible to his conscious and no one else. She worried over the implications. Dr. Robin had assured her his tumor was shrinking. But if that was the case then why was he beginning to have hallucinations? Whomever he was speaking to, it hadn't been Amanda. His words had been more melancholy than angry. Booth for sure wouldn't have offered his sadness to the devil. He knew better than that, and felt too much hate.

She worried during the overnight hours. Her dreams were filled rancid visions of Booth's nightmares. Or maybe her nightmares for him. Death was the theme, but the torture he'd undergone in which she hadn't thought of in years ran prevalent. By the time the morning arrived her stomach was tight with anxiety. She sat up and felt a strange sensation between her legs. A wetness. Had her dreams caused her to urinate in her sleep? Her cheeks reddened with embarrassment. She left their bed for the bathroom. Down she sat on the toilet to conduct her business. She glanced down at the panties she'd been wearing overnight. They were soaked with blood. Sharply she inhaled. No. This couldn't be happening.

She flew back into the bedroom to Booth's side. Alyssa was curled up against him. She didn't want to wake the child but was just barely clinging to any sort of stability. "Booth!" She shook him. "Get up."

He grunted. Mornings were still most difficult for him. "Wha-?"

"You have to wake up. I'm bleeding."

This was of little concern to him. "There's band aids up in the medicine-"

"Booth!" She pushed at him until he opened his eyes. By then her own had filled to the brim with tears. "I'm _bleeding_."

"Oh, Jesus." He hopped out of bed. "Get dressed. I'll drive us to the hospital."

Alyssa stirred from the commotion. She groggily watched her two parents frantically rushing around. Booth kissed her forehead. He pulled a shirt on over his bed. "Lissie, go wake Gramps, okay? Tell him we're going to the hospital, and he's gotta watch you for a while."

She didn't exactly understand, but knew she could repeat him word for word and Gramps would. Silently she slipped from the bed. She scooted on her butt down each stair until she reached the bottom. Her father's tone frightened her. It wasn't often he was so serious. Which was why she did precisely as he'd asked.

Booth ushered Brennan outside into their car. It had been a while since he'd driven but the skills weren't lost. She clutched her stomach as he drove them to the nearest hospital as fast but as safely as he could. He didn't speak, which was just fine with Brennan as she remained mostly focused on herself. She could feel the blood still pooling out of her body. Fright was piercing a knife into her chest. This wasn't right. None of it. She'd just been to the doctor. All was well. She was a few months along carrying a healthy child.

The car came to a stop in the bay of the ER. Booth hopped out. "She's pregnant and she's bleeding!" He hollered to two attendants who hurried down from the entrance with a gurney. He helped Brennan lay down on top. Before allowing her to leave he kissed her. "It's going to be all right."

She wanted his words to be true but knew statistically fate was against them. He squeezed her hand before letting her go. It wasn't until she disappeared inside that he thought to park the car. He sat down behind the wheel ready to vomit. He knew just as well as she did what was likely happening. And he was just as ill equipped as she was to deal with it.

* * *

Hours passed by. Every ticking minute drove Booth further insane. He had a good idea now what Brennan felt every time he had been taken in for emergency treatment. How she was able to cope, he would never understand. As it was he was doing all he could to keep himself calm. Just because she was bleeding, it didn't mean she was miscarrying. These sorts of things happened all the time, right? Maybe she'd stay in the hospital for a while. It would be better for her if she did, he deemed. The continuous stress over his tumor wasn't healthy for her. If anything happened it was all his fault.

After three hours Max phoned him. "I don't know anything," he cut the old man off before he could pepper him with questions. "I've been waiting out here for hours. No one's even acknowledged me."

"What happened? All Alyssa said was that you'd gone to the hospital. She's been pretty quiet ever since."

His heart ached. Great. He'd scared his daughter. "I don't know. She woke me up and said she was bleeding. That's all I know." Her panic had become his own. Brennan didn't all out scare that often, which was why he had sprung into action. He may had been sick but that protective instinct was still deep inside of him.

Max muttered a curse under his breath. "Call me as soon as you know something."

Booth promised he would. And he intended to, if he had his wits about him. He was pocketing his phone when a doctor called for him. Out into the hall he was taken for privacy. The doctor introduced himself but Booth wasn't able to center his thoughts on anything other than his wife. "How is she? What happened?"

"She's stable. She's resting comfortably right now in a room upstairs. It's likely we'll keep her overnight for observation." The doctor sighed. "I'm sorry, but she lost the baby."

Having his worst nightmare confirmed rendered him unable to speak. He faced his feet, and did his best to keep his emotions under control. In front of this doctor he had no intentions of falling apart. The same went for Brennan. "Can I see her?" His voice sounded peculiar to him, like it belonged to someone else. The doctor nodded and gestured for him to follow.

The walk upstairs felt surreal. The lights shining overhead were dull. People passed by in a blur. Booth was guided into a darkened room. Inside Brennan lay on her back in bed buried underneath multiple blankets. She was pale and withdrawn. His idea of keeping himself composed flew out the window the moment he saw her. Before he'd even reached her side he was crying silent tears. He held her hand, and kissed her forehead. "God, Bones."

She sucked in a deep breath. For hours now she'd been crying. The pain had been replaced with an addictive numbness. "This is probably for the better," she whispered.

Booth pulled away. "What?" He asked, shocked.

Firmly, she nodded. "We shouldn't have conceived while you were on chemo. It was dangerous and harmful to the both of us, not to mention it pulls focus away from you. Our child likely would have been born with many problems, if I was able to carry it to full term."

"You can't be serious." He backed further away from the bed. "You're compartmentalizing this?"

"I have to be logical, Booth. This wasn't the right time for any of us."

"Logical? No. You're supposed to be upset!" He shook his head. "You should have stayed in D.C. I would have been fine here by myself. I didn't need any help."

She'd prepared herself for his emotions regarding her lost child. What she hadn't expected was Booth thinking she was aloof. "Are you blaming me for this?" She gasped.

He paced the area by her bed. His hand ran anxiously over the back of his neck. "You should have stayed home," he repeated. "Like everyone recommended you to."

"You can't take care of yourself, Booth. You've made that obvious. I did what I felt I had to do."

"So this is my fault?" He shot back coldly. "Even though I told you I was fine? Even though I told you to stay home? I didn't want any of this, Bones. Staying home was the only thing I asked you to do, and you couldn't even do that. You should have worried about this baby. Not me. And now what?"

"I did what I felt was necessary, and considering the way you were treating your body it was a good thing I did. I am sad over the loss of our child. But I don't regret my actions. You can absorb that information and do with it what you like."

"I can't believe you're acting like this."

She sniffed. "Emotions serve no purpose here. I have to think rationally."

He laughed a strained breath. "I can't do this. I'm sorry."

She watched as he strode from her room. Once he was gone did she left the tears flow freely.

* * *

In the middle of her crying she must had drifted off, because when she woke she discovered she was no longer alone. Only instead of seeing Booth's angry mug her father had pulled up a chair besides her. He did his best attempt at a smile for her. "Hi, sweetie. How are you feeling?"

"I'm very sore." She nodded politely. "Booth informed you of the situation?"

"Yes. He did. He didn't tell me much, though. I'm not really someone he confides in."

She bit her lip. "He's upset with me."

"I know he is. That I understood just from talking to him."

"I believe we both said some things we didn't mean. We're blaming one another for our sadness." She let herself fall apart for a second time. "He thinks I'm being cold because I wasn't emotional in front of him. Compartmentalizing is the only way I can successfully bear this pain at the moment. I know the timing of this pregnancy was terrible. I know Booth should be my main priority. But I wanted to have this baby." All out did she sob. "I wanted to be pregnant."

Max hugged his daughter close. "I know. I understand. I think somewhere deep down Booth knows that, too. But he's blinded by his own pain right now. And maybe putting him first isn't a good idea."

She was revolted. "Dad, he can't take care of himself."

"Have you let him try? He's not the same fragile person he was when he was first returned, Tempe. You two should be leaning on each other right now. Not fighting."

"I did let him try. He chose to do treatments that would have killed him sooner rather than later. Last night I found him out on the beach speaking to himself, only he believed someone else was with him. He denied it when I asked him. I don't know what to think anymore. I don't know what to do. I'm losing everything."

"You're not losing anything, sweetheart. But I think you need a break. I think you need a week to yourself away from everyone and everything."

"I can't do that." She gazed out the window. "I'm needed."

"I can take your place for a week. Booth and I can hold down the responsibilities."

She couldn't fathom leaving, even if it was just for a week. "Who will stay with Booth while he's sick after his treatments? He won't allow you to be by his side." Never in a million years could she see Booth tolerating her father's presence in a moment of such weakness for him.

"He was doing it just fine on his own before you came back to be with him." Max reminded her. "And he was doing it which much tougher side effects. Tempe," he affectionately squeezed her hand. "You're not Wonder Woman. You've been through a lot of traumatic experiences in a short period of time. Take a week for yourself. Go to the Bahamas. Sit on the beach and drink. You need to stop being in control. You're pushed to your limit."

"I can't see myself relaxing without him."

"Give it your best shot."

She exhaled. "I'll speak about it with him."

"Do that. But I have a feeling he'll agree with me."

* * *

Before drifting off for the evening Brennan requested a pain killer to alleviate some of the pain she was in, therefore allowing her to sleep. For once she had a night without dreams; a black sky without stars. The darkness was more than appreciated. When she woke in the morning she found Booth sound asleep in a chair next to her bed. She swallowed a grapefruit sized lump in her throat. Was she really capable of leaving him for a week?

All in all his appearance had improved. The treatments were difficult, yes. But they didn't have the same side effects as the chemo. He'd lost a bit of weight but not much. His head was covered with over an inch of soft brown hair. His muscles had remained formed. The greatest issue she could witness in him was exhaustion. Knowing this, could she let go? Her father was right. She'd been trying to run Booth's life for him. But he was no longer that person who'd once been hell bent on self destruction. If anything his decision to undertake severe medications proved his desire to live.

He yawned right then, blinking his eyes open slowly. They shared a meaningful glance. "I'm sorry," she whispered to him.

"I'm sorry, too. I didn't mean to accuse you of being cold, Bones."

"I know. I'm just… I'm afraid. I'm afraid that if I let myself feel all the pain I'm surrounded by I won't be able to pull myself back. That terrifies me." She admitted.

He stood up. Tenderly he wrapped his arms around her. "I wouldn't let anything happen to you if you did."

She buried her head into his neck. "We should talk…"


	133. Forgiveness

"Hi. Do you mind if I sit here?"

At first Brennan wasn't conscious someone was speaking to her. Her thoughts outweighed the sounds of the world. The waves lapping onto the sand. The gulls singing their shrill cries as they circled overhead. Her other senses were blocked as well. She was barely aware that it was getting late. The setting sun had lit the sky on fire with brilliant pinks and reds. She didn't feel the soft, cool wind sweeping across the bare skin on her arms and feet. The world had ceased to exist.

It'd been three days since she'd left home. After a lengthy discussion in the hospital Booth had positioned himself on Max's side. Brennan absolutely needed a few days away. Though Brennan had been the one to start the conversation she'd been reluctant to leave. But within a few days after being discharged from the hospital she could see the need. The loss of her child had left her with both emotions and hormones that had been turned upside down. When she wasn't holding in tears she was cross with everyone. Max and Booth were good at disregarding it and remaining positive. Their kindness only made matters worse. Then one afternoon after a particularly rough morning she took her aggression out on Booth. "How can you behave like this? How can you be so cheery? We just lost a baby! Does that mean nothing to you?" She'd demanded to know. He'd been passing through the kitchen on his way upstairs when she'd cornered him.

He was insulted. "Of course I'm upset. I'm crushed."

"You'd never realize it from the way you've been acting. I think it's unfair you can accuse me in the hospital of being cold because I wouldn't display my sadness in front of you, but at home you act in the same manner and it's perfectly acceptable. You're a hypocrite." She'd went on, tearing into him while he stood stoic with a lowered head. In the end he walked out on her berating him. She'd turned around to find Max observing the scene from the entrance to the living room. He'd eavesdropped on the entire fight. "You're wrong, Tempe." He'd said quietly. "Your miscarriage is tearing him apart. He mourns in private so he can be strong for you. After all you've done for him he wants to be able to give himself to you in return. Out of all the people in this world he would have been the last person I would have thought you'd accuse of being unfeeling."

She'd understood then that she did indeed need that vacation. Certain conditions had been put into place before she'd agreed to leave. Booth was to webcam with her at the end of their days every night. He'd protested at first, reminding her that the point of her trip was to cut herself off from all the stressors in her life. Him, of course, playing a major role. But she knew she wouldn't relax without at least checking in with him, and told him so. The nightly visit was a compromise.

Fernandina Beach in the upper portion of Florida became her destination of choice. The hotel she'd selected was footsteps away from the ocean. These days the ocean reminded her of Booth. Therefore if she couldn't be with him, she could feel close to him by sitting near the water. It was a foolish notion she'd never admit to anyone else. But as she was alone she saw no reason why not to. There was no one to put up a front for.

Her guest didn't care to wait any longer for an answer. Uninvited, she collapsed down onto the blanket besides Brennan, bringing her back to reality. "Thanks," she breathed. "I like to come out here at night, but I know it isn't always safe. "Swim with a partner," right? Not that I intend on swimming. You just look nice so I thought I'd hang out for a few with you, if that's all right."

Brennan frowned. _I look nice? _What sort of logic was that? Who was this young woman? She glanced sideways. Her breath caught in her throat. Her visitor wasn't just anyone. For all the world did she look like Riley. _That's impossible. She died. This must be her doppelganger. _

"I don't really like being alone these days." She continued to jabber.

Brennan didn't really want to engage. Her mind was playing tricks on her. This wasn't real. It couldn't have been. "I happen to like solitude." She muttered.

"I don't really know anyone. I stay in each town for a few days before I travel to the next. So there's never any time for friends. But anyway, I'm Amy." She extended a hand for a friendly shake.

Brennan remained blank and left her motion hanging. "I'm on a vacation my family felt I needed. I return home in a few days."

Amy dropped her hand and nodded. "That's cool. My family doesn't know where I am. It's better they don't. For their own safety. I ran away. I had to. I was with this guy… and well, he put me in the hospital. He was abusive. He almost killed me. But while I was there I met this _other guy._" She smiled. "He's in law enforcement. He's been helping me get away. Every few cities we meet up. It's so crazy but I think I'm in love with him. It's probably not good to fall for someone who saves you, huh?"

The story hit too close to home. Brennan was sure she was in a dream state. Or hallucinating. There had to be some other explanation for this. "Sometimes that particular person just happens to be the right one. The only one." She swept her thumb over her wedding ring. _Booth._

"You sound as though you have some experience." Amy said guardedly. Rightfully. She really had no business poking her nose into someone else's life.

Brennan knew this. But her walls of protection crumbled. For reasons she couldn't discern she let out all the pain she'd been clutching deep inside. "My husband… we both worked for the FBI. He was an agent. I am," she paused. "_was _a forensic anthropologist. We were separated for a year due to circumstances beyond our control. I honestly thought I would never see him again." _Certainly not alive. _"But he survived. Our lives together have been riddled with both sorrow and happiness. Greater than what a usual couple must go through. As of right now he's very ill. He's undergoing treatments that take away all his energy and strength. His doctors assure me he's improving. But given all we've been through I am still afraid of losing him. And if he were to die I would experience a kind of pain I never have before, and never will again. I do not believe anyone has ever loved me as much as he has. I don't know that I've ever loved anyone as much as I love him."

Amy sniffed. Her watery eyes sparkled. "That's so sweet. He sounds like an amazing man."

"He's extraordinary." She forced herself to swallow a strong pang of sickness for her home. "Recently we were dealt with another hardship. I haven't reacted as well as I should have. My father suggested some time away from home to recover. I had no desire to leave until an incident between my husband and I brought me to see that my mental health was requiring it. I was awful to him, and I feel terrible." Booth hadn't brought up their fight during any of their webcam conversations. But his eyes spoke volumes for what he wasn't saying. Her words had cut him, and he was still licking his wounds. "Even if he forgives me I haven't forgiven myself." _I need to speak with him. I need to apologize._

"I'm sure he will. You sound like a couple that can trump anything. I hope someday I have a love story like yours."

Brennan studied this woman who looked so much like the one whose life had been lost. Riley hadn't been able to escape her situation. Amy clearly had. _You're already off to a better start. _"I believe you will."

* * *

That evening Brennan had trouble reaching Booth. Her webcam connection requests went unanswered. Multiple texts were went out of worry and desperation. Where was he? Why wasn't he answering? Then before she knew it her computer beeped to signal its own incoming request. Booth's image filled the capacity of the screen the moment she clicked on. His eyes were half open. His hair was a mess. Very obvious it was that she'd woken him. "Were you sleeping?"

He nodded. "It's been a busy day. I took Danny to the doctor because he's got a cold, and was running a fever. Alyssa and I then went to the park. She had me chasing her around for more than a hour. It's all a little more than this old man can handle."

She chuckled. "You aren't old, Booth. You're just falling apart."

"Thanks. Thanks a million for that one." He yawned.

"I'm sorry. You should rest. You need it. I was just anxious when I didn't hear from you."

He pulled a pillow underneath his head. "Yeah, sorry. I didn't realize my nap was going to last so long. I'm awake now. We can talk. I should probably check on Danny soon, anyway. He's got these meds-"

"Can't my father do that?"

"Probably. But he's my son. I should be able to take care of him."

Brennan was thrown by his defensive tone. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply anything. You just look exhausted, Booth. I worry about you. I've done a lot of thinking while I've been down here. I owe you an apology."

"An apology?" He lifted his head. "For what?"

"Our fight, Booth. Or more so my verbal attack of your character. I shouldn't have made such brash assumptions without all the facts. I've always believed in not forming a conclusion until I had all the evidence. Somehow that changed. My conjecture became truth I believed. I know you. Therefore I should have known better. I've lost sight of myself. My rationality has been lost. I am working on repairing these things. I love you, and I'm afraid that I've led you to believe otherwise."

"I know you love me, Bones." He smiled a little. "I've never doubted that. I was just doing my best to be there for you. You've done so much for me. You've gotten me through times that I don't think I would have if I'd been going through them on my own. I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for you. I just wanted to be able to give you some of that support that you've given me. I thought what I was doing was right. But I don't think I know what's right or wrong anymore. I just love you. That's all I wanted you to have. My love."

She broke down into tears. Quiet tears of both love and shame. She heard him murmur, "come home, Bones."

"I will."

* * *

Brennan didn't wait the full extent of her vacation. Post speaking to Booth she traded in her ticket to book a flight home the following morning. Though the flight wasn't all that long, she felt like days had passed before she reached South Carolina once again. The plane touched down on the runway to pouring rain. She departed expecting to see Booth waiting for her in the terminal. Through the various mass crowds she couldn't spot him anywhere. After a while she left to claim her luggage. And yet still, Booth was nowhere to be seen. She retrieved her cell phone from her pocket. Maybe he was running late. Perhaps she'd missed a call from him.

But her display was blank, giving her no more information than the time. Well then, she needed to call him. Before she'd boarded her flight that morning she'd phoned him with all the details of her flight. He knew what time she was arriving.

However, inside the airport she had no reception. In order to make a call she'd have to go out. She pulled her rolling suitcase behind her while strolling outside. She'd taken no more than a few steps before Booth was hurrying across the parking lot. In that moment she became completely oblivious to the rain. The people milling around her in the background faded away.

Booth hopped up onto the curb. His eyes never left hers as he approached and drew her into his arms. She tilted her head just in time for him to kiss her. Her arms braced his shoulders, having no intention of ever letting him go again.


	134. Time

"What are you thinking about?"

Later on that evening the couple had tucked themselves away in a porch swing underneath a blanket of stars overhead. Each clutched a beer, sipping at it leisurely. Since coming home they hadn't had a moment to themselves since they'd left the airport. The children had all been ecstatic to see their mother. The tables were reversed as Brennan found Alyssa now following her around, as though that would make certain her mother would never leave on her own again. No one was permitted to leave under Alyssa's watch. The child was definitely a mix of her parents. She shared her mother's brilliance and the fearlessness of her father. Someday she was due to be a real threat.

The evening had provided its own brand of chaos. After dinner Brennan had taken care of the children while Booth cleaned the kitchen. She kept an eagle eye on him, noting that he seemed to be taking on more responsibility. She liked to think that meant he was feeling better. He'd never been happy about the limits his illness placed on him. He'd never felt as though he were doing enough to look after his family, particularly since he was unable to work and it was unlikely he would ever return to his job. But money was never tight. He received disability pay, so though he felt like he wasn't he did contribute to the household. But she knew him. Such things were never enough.

Max had been the one to suggest they take a breather. The two had been happy to please. Side by side they sat so close to one another it was difficult to tell their bodies apart. Booth's legs were stretched out in front of him. His feet were planted firmly on the floor. Back and forth he rocked them slowly. Brennan's body was twisted onto its side, with her legs folded underneath her rear. Her head was against his chest. The constant thumping of his heart beneath her ear was soothing. "A lot of different topics," she answered him after a beat.

"Such as?"

All the issues she was mulling over weren't ones she cared to bring up. Try as she might she couldn't stop the negativity from flowing through her mind. The beautiful evening didn't need to be ruined by her. Yet he was waiting for an answer of some sort. "I'm thinking about you. I'm thinking about…" Booth had urged her in the hospital to let herself accept the pain surrounding her; to allow herself to surrender control. With him there was no need to numb herself. In doing so she found she could no longer speak the clinical term. The word _miscarriage _would induce tears she didn't want to cry. Not tonight. "The reason I went away."

Booth nodded a little. The arm he'd had around her shoulders tightened a little. "You already apologized to me, Bones. I don't need anything more. I was never mad at you in the first place. Just worried."

"I know. It's not that. I just, I really wanted to be pregnant." She choked out through a tightening throat. "It's silly. It's the wrong time. We need to focus on your health. I just didn't realize how much I wanted another child until it was too late."

His fingers soothingly strummed her bare arm. "So when the time is right we'll have another kid. We got time. I'm not going to be sick forever. We'll get this tumor out, and we'll find a cure. And we'll have a baby." His palm rested on her stomach. "By then Alyssa and the twins will be older, too. They won't be such a handful."

A cure. She could barely let herself hope. "We're going to have to be careful from now on. We can't keep allowing this to happen while you're undergoing your treatments."

"Yeah, I know. We will." Affectionately he kissed her forehead. "It's all going to be all right, Bones."

She shut her eyes, continuing to listen to his steadily drumming heart.

* * *

On Monday life went on as though nothing had ever happened. Booth returned to the clinic for his usual treatment. Just outside the front doors he kissed Brennan goodbye. Physically she only conferred with his doctors once a week so long as there were no problems. Otherwise their contact was strictly over the phone. He'd come to gather that having to stand by while he endured wave after wave of pain was too much to bear. That he understood, and quite frankly was sometimes grateful.

Before beginning Dr. Robin did his usual weekly exam. "How have you been feeling?" He asked, his fingers probing the glands in Booth's neck.

There was information he'd been keeping away from Brennan. "My head pain has been a lot worse, and I got this terrible ache in my back. I'm still doing the morphine when its get tough to deal with but that isn't helping like it was." In his opinion his wife didn't need to know of this. Ignorance was his best weapon against her. All that mattered to him in light of what had happened was keeping her upbeat and healthy.

Dr. Robin frowned. "Lets get some updated images on you."

The clinic housed its own machinery for performing scans such as MRI's, among others. Time dragged on as Booth was placed in an array of different machines where he was instructed to keep perfectly still. Such orders of course unconsciously made his body twitch. He grit his teeth in aggravation.

After finishing he was taken for treatment while the images were developed. He kept his mind clear enough to text Brennan, informing her he would be late being dismissed. Purposefully he left out the reason, only telling her he'd gotten a late start. It was the truth, just with omission. He saw no reason to worry her.

In the middle of the session Dr. Robin opened the door to his treatment room. Booth was barely holding on to consciousness. Sweat already dripped from his body from his elevated temperature. He struggled just to hold his eyes open as Dr. Robin came to his side. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I don't have good news for you."

"Just tell me." His voice shook as hard as his body.

"The treatments have ceased to help you. Your brain tumor is regressing. It's not anywhere near where it was, but its battling back against the drugs and attempting to grow. The pain you feel in your back is a tumor developing on your spine. Simply put, you need surgery. The sooner the better."

Booth shut his eyes tight. While he hoped this was some sort of sick bed hallucination he knew it wasn't. _Bones. _His family needed him. He couldn't have this happen now. "How long can I put it off?"

Dr. Robin blinked with an expression suggesting he'd been electrocuted. "I'm sorry?"

"My family… we're going through kind of a crisis right now. They need me." He tensed through another episode of trembling. "I can't… it's not a good time."

"I understand. But you can't postpone your care. Your life is at stake. I don't know if you understand what will happen to you. You'll be dead in-"

"How. Long?" He repeated steadily.

Dr. Robin could tell his logic was getting him nowhere. Booth wasn't willing to listen. And while he hoped it was just the sickness speaking for him he could tell that it wasn't. "I wouldn't wait any longer than a month. I can't reiterate this enough. You need help. In the meantime I will prescribe you corticosteroids to help with the inflammation in your spine."

Booth closed his eyes. The worst of the medication was taking him away. "Don't say anything… to my wife." He slurred.

"Of course I'll respect your confidentiality. But its my professional opinion that you are making a big mistake. You're at a crucial point in your treatment. Waiting is only going to result in disastrous consequences. You will be worthless to your family if you're dead."

His words fell on deafened ears. Booth had already fallen under. He wasn't woken until a beautiful angel stood over him. A halo of light crowned her head. _Bones. _He smiled tiredly. She helped him to sit up. His muscles were jelly, and he nearly collapsed in his attempt to stand on his feet. He required her support the entire walk to their car. And there secured in his seat he blacked out.

* * *

Brennan was sure she'd seen the worst of the aftermath of Booth's treatments. She learned that afternoon how wrong she was. Booth surrendered to a fervor so intense she found herself debating hospitalization. His breaths were weak and he shivered with the force of an earthquake. Locked away in their bedroom she did her best to tend to him. Her icy washcloth was warm within instants of her dabbing it against his skin. "Did you take the harsher drugs?" She asked him, knowing better than to expect an answer. "What's causing this?"

As always twenty four hours of gut wrenching anxiety passed before he emerged from his coma like state. Brennan was perched at his side in wait. He let out a low, long sigh before pushing his eyes open part way. Eventually he turned to her. She was about to speak when he weakly lifted his hand and tapped at his hip bone. _Morphine. _Quick she was to inject him. Once relief set in he sunk a few inches into the bed.

With every passing hour he seemed to strengthen. That night was spent asleep in her arms. In the morning he didn't stir with the alarm clock as she did. "Booth?" She questioned. "Aren't you getting up?"

"No therapy today." He muttered. "Taking two weeks off. Letting my body recover."

It made sense to her, but at the same time didn't sound right. She chose to let it go but made a mental note to phone Dr. Robin later on. Unfortunately the days' events occupied her thoughts. Alyssa was cranky. Danny still wasn't feeling well. Only Riley seemed to be chipper as she crawled around the floor under the watchful eye of her father. She giggled and cooed at her parents excitedly.

By Friday Booth was back to being himself. That night Brennan turned in much earlier than the rest of her family. The day had left her completely exhausted, and so almost immediately after dinner she excused herself. A few hours went by. She dozed off and on until she heard the bedroom door open. Booth's silhouette tip toed inside. She watched him undress down to his boxers. "You're awake," he acknowledged in a whisper. He felt her stare burning into him.

"Sort of. I am having difficulty finding adequate rest."

He finished preparing for bed. "I know what might help with that," he told her seductively as he slid into the bed. She allowed herself to be whisked into his arms for a kiss. That kiss turned into several, and soon he was pushing her shirt off of her body. His heated palm traveled along the silky feel of her chest before it skirted downwards over her stomach. Just the thought of his suggestion quickened her pulse. "That might be a cure, yes." She giggled.

"You want to?" He brought his mouth down to her breast. Her sexual sigh was all the confirmation he needed.

"We have to be careful though." She reminded him breathlessly. His tongue was almost enough of a distraction. She pressed herself up into him.

He paused long enough to whisper, "we will."

Her pleasure was extended. He did his best to draw out their foreplay. Just as in her fantasy he'd been reluctant to let her fulfill any of his needs. His concentration remained on her solely. When they arrived at that moment he excused himself from the bed. He returned after a short minute. "Okay. We're good."

Their sex was more passionate than it had been in quite some time. Once finished she settled in his arms, now indeed tired enough to sleep. He watched over her with both love and guilt. There were numerous truths now she didn't know, and wouldn't until much later.

He hadn't done anything to protect them against pregnancy.


	135. Following The Lie

Exhausted wasn't an accurate enough word to describe how Brennan felt. Worn out. Bone tired. None of these adjectives properly demonstrated the depth of how tired she was. In the week that had passed since Booth had taken a break from his treatments she felt as though her head was spinning round. Her days were filled with chasing after and attempting to keep up with her children. Without Booth to worry about she fully devoted her time to them. She was shocked she hadn't realized what a handful they were before. But her thoughts had always been with her ill husband, therefore she'd never taken the time to stop and consider. She'd been focused on doing what she could for all involved in order to survive.

Her nights were filled with steamy passion. They'd barely be shut in their bedroom for the night before Booth was initiating sex. His appetite for intimacy had become unquenchable. Though Brennan enjoyed it immensely it left her little time for rest before morning arrived and the twins were crying for attention. She was fortunate if she was able to receive so much as four hours of sleep a night.

That morning she'd woken to an empty bed. A vacant bedroom. She dressed before hurrying to find Booth. Max was in the kitchen with the twins, to her surprise. "Did you wake them?"

"No. They started crying right after Booth left. You slept through it. I know you're tired so I let you rest."

She noticed Alyssa was missing as well. "Did Booth take Alyssa to the park?"

"No. Alyssa's still sleeping. I don't know where Booth went. He didn't say." Max spooned a mouthful of baby food into Danny's mouth. The child spit most of it back out. "Yeah. I don't care much for strained bananas either."

Brennan pulled out a chair besides her father. She didn't like the thought of Booth pulling one of his vanishing acts. Though she refused to go there she still couldn't keep from wondering if she was at fault. That previous evening she'd refused his advances. "Not tonight." She'd kissed him tenderly instead. "Allow me to have one night to rest. Tomorrow night, I'll make it worth the wait." Her eyebrow had cocked with her promise.

Booth had smiled, but overall he'd gotten a look she hadn't recognized. It wasn't anger or disappointment, two emotions she would have understood. There was almost a sadness in him that she couldn't quite clarify. He'd rolled over onto his stomach and shut his eyes. This action too, struck her as being odd. Booth always slept on his back.

Max read his daughter like a book. "What's the matter, sweetie?"

She paused for a long moment before giving her thoughts a voice. "I'm just concerned Booth didn't inform you of his destination. He has been acting out of character. He's been overly energetic. Last night I noticed he fell asleep on his stomach."

"So?" Max chuckled. "I don't think that's cause for alarm. And of course he has energy. He stopped those terrible treatments. He looks good."

She couldn't shake the nagging feeling. "But he always sleeps on his back. And every night… he wants to make love every night. Last night I told him no because I needed a night to just sleep."

The old man's eyebrows raised nearly into his hairline. He wasn't sure he wanted to be hearing of her sex life. "_Every night_?" Man, he'd kill to be young again. "Is he on speed?"

"…I don't know what the means."

"Illicit drugs, sweetie. I was joking."

She sighed. "It's just all very unusual for him. And now he's disappeared without telling anyone where he was going." All she knew was the danger typically involved when he hid himself for periods of time.

"Well, you must be thinking something. Do you think he's cheating on you? I mean, that behavior doesn't add up to having an affair for me, but you know him better than I do."

"No." She retorted angrily. "I don't think that at all. I don't know what to think. I wish he'd talk to me."

When he arrived home late that afternoon Booth behaved as though he'd done nothing wrong. He was vague with his answers on his whereabouts. He spent his time with his children away from the prying adults. In the overnight hours the tables were turned as Brennan tried engaging him into love making. This time he was unwilling, with little excuse as to why. Unfulfilled and saddened, she watched over him as he slipped into a light sleep, once again positioning himself face down.

Meanwhile downstairs, Max was conducting an investigation. Now that he had privacy he'd lifted Booth's coat from it's hook by the front door. He raised the fabric to his nose, sniffing it for any trace of perfume. All he could smell was disinfectant found commonly in medical facilities, and the fragrance of Booth's soap. He pulled the contents out from the pockets. Loose change spilled out. A bottle of pills rattled. A scrap of paper fluttered to the floor. Aha! He snatched it off the ground. A phone number was scribbled in Booth's messy scrawl. Max moved on to his cell phone and dialed the number. At the sound of a woman's voice on a voice mail he hung up. That was it. Tomorrow there would be a confrontation. Booth had some explaining to do.

* * *

First thing in the morning Booth was again leaving before Brennan woke. He soft stepped through a quiet household yet to waken. His lungs filled with salty sea air as soon as he walked outside. A cab was waiting at the curb. The door to the backseat opened with a merciless groan. Booth sat inside and quiet tugged it back closed.

What he didn't know was that Max was slouched in the front seat of Brennan's car. He let the cab get down the street before turning the engine. Using the best of his old con skills he trailed the man straight to an office building in the heart of Charleston. Booth exited the vehicle, and disappeared through a set of revolving doors. Max located a parking spot and stopped. "That son of a bitch," he growled under his breath. In his mind Booth was indeed having an affair. The phone number sealed it for him. Obviously now he'd gone to visit his lover in the daytime while he left his wife at home to take care of their kids. And the constant need for sex? He was covering up something. He may have played it cool enough to throw off Brennan but not Max. The old dog knew the young dog's tricks.

After an hour or so Booth emerged. Max leapt from the car. He charged the foyer in front of the doors. Booth only just saw him coming before it was too late. A hard fist to his jaw nearly knocked him onto the concrete. He reacted before he thought out his actions. He slammed his knuckles back into the old man. "What the hell?" He added.

"You should be ashamed of yourself! After all she's done for you!"

Booth shook his head, puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

"You're cheating on Tempe! She says you're acting weird. You won't answer her on where you were yesterday. I found that phone number in your pocket. Now you're obviously here visiting the whore while your wife is home with your children!"

His face went void. Slowly he produced his cell phone from his pocket, along with the ripped paper. Right there before Max's eyes he dialed, then thrust the phone at him. After a few rings a woman answered. It was the same voice that had been on the voice mail; the one he hadn't bothered to listen to. "Goodwill and Hammerstein, attorneys at law. How can I direct your call?"

Max disconnected the line. He handed the phone back to Booth. "I'm finding out what I need to get a will drafted and finalized, Max. I'm sure as hell not cheating on Bones. I'd die before I ever double crossed her. I love her more than I've ever loved anyone. That's why I'm doing this."

"You're giving up." Max realized.

"No. I'm being realistic. My brain tumor's growing back, and I got a new tumor developing near my spine. I need surgery. I've already been in touch with a surgeon. But I need to do some things first, just in case. If anything happens to me I don't want it falling back onto Bones. I don't want her having to deal with it. She'll be going through enough."

Max felt like he couldn't breathe. "It's that serious?"

"It's cancer. Of course it's serious. I quit doing the treatments because my doc basically told me there's little more that can be done. I don't have much time left unless I get this surgery, starting with my spine and then my brain. If I survive one surgery it's not promised I'll survive the other, and they aren't comfortable with removing both at once. I'm not ready for Bones to know any of this yet. But if she thinks I'm cheating on her-"

"She doesn't. I did."

Booth nodded a little. "Then _you're _the one who should be ashamed of himself, to think that I would ever do that to her. She and our kids? They mean more to me than anything. If it weren't for them I'd of let this cancer kill me a long time ago. But I fight for them."

"I understand. I'm sorry. But… what's with all the sex then?"

Booth did a double take. He was unaware Brennan discussed such personal matters with her father. Not that it astounded him. "She doesn't know but I'm trying to get her pregnant."

"So you're willing to knock her up and then leave her?"

"She wants another baby, Max. I figure its maybe the last gift I can give her."

They both let a period of silence fill of air between them. Max rubbed at his face. "You still got a helluva shot there, kid."

Booth smiled weakly. Max withdrew his car keys. "Come on. Lets head home."

Brennan was in the living room entertaining the children with a movie when the two men slumped in through the front door. "There you are!" She flew forward to greet them. "I-" Her words got caught in her throat as she discovered the downhearted expressions they shared. "What's happened?"

"We should talk." Booth said plainly. "Lets go for a walk."

"Oh-kay." She tugged a coat on over her shoulders. His fingers grasped a hold of hers. He led her outside onto the beach. Their shoes sunk in the loose sand as they strolled along to the melody of the waves. Patiently she waited for him to speak, losing her willpower with every single step. Just as she was sure she was about to explode he began to talk quietly.

"I haven't been completely honest with you. I haven't been taking a break from the treatments to let my body recover. I quit them because Dr. Robin told me they'd become useless. The chemicals aren't fighting the tumor anymore. It's growing back. And now I got another one growing near my spine that can only really be treated with surgery. I've been getting corticosteroid injections to help, but they aren't going to fix anything." He let out a long breath. "I've been in touch with Dr. Merck who has referred me to a surgeon down here, so I don't have to try and travel back home to get these things removed." He stopped walking so he could face her. "I should have told you all this before. I know that. I just couldn't. I don't know what I can say for myself. I'm sick."

Brennan couldn't locate the right words, either. She could only stare at him in amongst trying to absorb the shock. His behavior made sense now. Mostly.

"I'm so sorry, Bones."

"I feel as though its us who have let you down, Booth. I feel like I should be apologizing to you."

"Never." He pulled her into his arms. "I haven't given up. I'm not quitting. I didn't even really want to tell you about any of this yet, but Max thought I was cheating on you so I worried that you thought that too-"

"What?" She cried. Oh, her father would be getting an earful from her! "I know you wouldn't do that. I know your character, and I trust you."

He forced something resembling a smile. "I'll figure this out. I'll get us through it. I promise." His guarantee felt like nothing more than a hollow lie. Knowing how weak he was he doubted if something were to go wrong during the procedure he'd be able to fight back. But along with a child, he could give her a present of hope. "We've gotten through everything so far, right?"

She clung to him. The wind pulled at her hair as she buried her face in his chest. Her hands gripped his shoulders. Booth's solidity was a reminder of the strength he was capable of even in his weakest hours. As long as they could weather the storm in one another's arms then she could continue to believe.


	136. Hope Survives

Appearances were deceiving, and over the years Booth had perfected his craft into an art. Confessing one of his secrets to Brennan had been both a blessing and a curse. He no longer felt the heavy weight of omission on his chest. But he took a new responsibility on his shoulders. The more his condition began to deteriorate, the harder he fought himself. He hid his suffering away from his family. Through sickening nausea he forced himself to eat. At the park he chased after Alyssa when he felt ready to collapse. At night he successfully coerced and made love to Brennan, though his spiked pulse made him feel as though his heart would give out at any moment. More than ever he'd come to appreciate the moments they shared directly after. When they laid tangled together, their hearts slowing down to the same rhythm; that was when he felt the most alive. That was when he could fool the both of them into believing the world was just. He was fine, and would forever be. In their bare bedroom kingdom the outside evils couldn't touch them. They wouldn't dare interfere with the king and queen.

The charade worked up until Booth suffered a seizure in the early morning hours of dawn. He woke much later in a cocoon of pillows and blankets. His jaw ached from being clamped together. His mind and body throbbed from the intense electrical release. But mostly he was parched. His mouth was so dry his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. He needed water.

The cocoon was stripped away. He rose onto rubbery legs and staggered forward. The bathroom seemed like it was lifetimes away, even though it was only down the hall. By the time he reached his destination he was winded as well. He turned on the faucet and dunked his head underneath the stream, sipping the water into his mouth like he would if he were at a drinking fountain. Onto the edges of the sink he held on tightly to keep upright. The effort was too much. By the time he finished his muscles had had enough. He fell down onto the floor.

Instead of reacting he laid completely still. The air had been knocked out of his lungs upon impact. Before he could even begin to assess the damage he needed to be able to breathe properly, which in itself was difficult. Flat on the floor he pressed one of his hands. Gradually he was able to sit up.

"Booth?" Brennan burst through the doorway. Only it wasn't his wife that Booth saw. Amanda was looming over him. She held a leather belt in her hand. The buckle had been heated with a lighter. It dangled from her grasp. "Are you all right? Booth, look at me."

For a second time he was breathless. His conscious was firing at a thousand thoughts a minute. Weakly he tried to back away from her. His torso hardened, readying for the pain and the energy it would require to fight back. Not once did his eyes stray from the buckle that glowed red with heat.

"Booth? What's wrong?" Brennan knelt in front of him. She recognized the look in his eyes. Danger lurked behind the deep pools of chocolate. Something wasn't right, and judging by his warning signs he was on edge. At any moment he could strike back in retaliation to a move of violence she hadn't made. "Dad!" She hollered for Max.

Booth's shoulder blades bumped against the wall. He had nowhere else to escape to. His fingers clenched into fists. If she even _tried_ to touch him…

Max appeared next to his daughter. "Did you call me?"

Max was easily identifiable, and within seconds of seeing him Amanda transformed back into Brennan. The fear that had been tightening his chest released like the popping of a stretched rubber band. In the absence of it came the exhaustion. Both Brennan and Max watched as his eyes half closed. His head tilted to one side.

"Can you help me get him back into bed?" Brennan requested.

The two finagled Booth back into the bedroom. Brennan tucked him back into the protective fort she'd built for him before. Booth was asleep before she'd finished pulling a blanket over him.

"What happened, Tempe?" Max asked quietly.

"I'm not positive, but judging by his reaction I believe he thought I was Amanda." She laid a hand over one of his. "I was definitely some sort of threat to him."

"So he's hallucinating again?"

She squeezed his hand. His perfect image blurred with tears. "He's worsening."

"C'mon. Lets go downstairs and let him sleep."

Brennan doubted much would disturb him. But she did as her father asked. The two sat themselves down in the kitchen. Max heated water on the stove to make tea. The children were all napping. For once Brennan was grateful for the silence. She was uncertain whether she could handle anarchy after what she'd just been through. "He warned me." Her voice sounded strange to her now. "This shouldn't be such a shock." But it was. _We made love just last night. He told me he loved me before we fell asleep._

"Of course it's a shock. I don't know how honest he's been with you lately. He's gotten pretty good at hiding his condition from you. I think he's great at pretending to feel better than he actually does. And I think he learned to do that to survive while he was being held captive. Maybe that's how he survived." The tea kettle whistled. Max withdrew two coffee cups from the cupboard.

"There had been a time in which I had thought once she had been brought to justice Booth would be able to move on, especially considering he was the one who killed her."

"He has. You know he's nothing like that person that he was in the first year, or even the second."

A rush of anger surged Brennan, and she let it run through her veins like water. "But it always comes back to her. Dad, he just thought I was Amanda. He thought I was going to hurt him. When his mind lets go it takes him right back to that person… the _only _person who could cause so much fear in him; who got into places in him that I can't even reach. There will always be darkness in him. I'm trying to learn to accept it."

Max placed a tea bag in each of their drinks. He set one mug before her on the table. "If you're waiting for him to become the Booth he was before he got abducted, you're wasting your time. I'm sorry to say it sweetie, but he'll never be that man again. He can't be. No one can endure what he did and not be forever changed by it."

"No, of course not. I love him for who he is. I just resent her for finding ways to torture him after all these years. He's sick because of her. We all know that."

"That's why I don't know if-" Max stopped himself. No good would come of him continuing his thought. Besides, it'd been spoken to him in confidence. But he should have known Brennan wouldn't allow him to trail off so easily. "You don't know what?"

"I shouldn't say anything."

"You just did." She snapped back. "What?"

He paused to sip his tea before answering. "I don't think he believes he's going to survive this time. He confided in me. All those times he disappeared he was meeting with a lawyer to learn about writing a will. He knows how much you wanted that child you lost, so he's been trying to get you pregnant-"

Brennan jumped up. She turned her back on her father. It was much for her brain to process all at once. If his words were of truth then all of Booth's actions were indeed evidence of a man who held no hope for the future. A hand unconsciously rested on her stomach. Of course she'd thought his sexual behavior odd, but had enjoyed it so much that she didn't question it nearly as much as she should have. "I can't let him go. Logically, I should. Love is fleeting. It's temporary."

"Even you know by now what you and Booth have isn't temporary. It never was."

She did know. But her emotions were pulling at the frayed edges of stringed emotions keeping her together. "He's in pain. He's been suffering for all these years and I have let it go on. I've asked him to go on living when he should have given up. If I loved him I'd allow him to let go. I'd let him find peace." Since her back was still turned she let loose a stream of tears. "But I can't. I love him too much to let him go. I'm selfish, and I should be ashamed of myself."

"You're not selfish. You love him just as much as he loves you. I don't think he'd let you let him go."

It'd been a long time since she'd felt so unsure of her life. Doubted what was fair and what was right. For the rest of the afternoon she idled her time away with her focus purely on her children. Alyssa disappeared for a short time. Max took her away to lay with Booth at her request. Brennan tended to the twins with sadness. Their lives weren't just intertwined with each other. To lose Booth would be losing a father as well. The twins likely would have adjusted, as they were still so young. But she didn't believe Alyssa would fair well. She was a daddy's girl through and through.

Since neither adult felt much like cooking a pizza was ordered. When it arrived Brennan attempted to wake Booth. He responded to her, though his efforts were diluted. He wouldn't so much as roll over in bed for her. Eventually she left him to rest, figuring he needed it. On her way out of the room she swept Alyssa up into her arms. The child was silent.

Dinner was an uncelebrated affair. Neither Max nor Brennan said a word to one another. Her mind was back in her bedroom lying besides her husband. There had to be some option that hadn't been explored. Quite some time had passed since she'd last done a research in alternative medicine. She hadn't felt a need to. Booth had been doing well with the treatments at the clinic. She'd been unprepared for the day in which his body would overrule their hope. A back up plan should have been in place. They always should have had a plan B.

After laying the twins down Brennan cleaned up while Max watched a movie with Alyssa. Soon as she finished she returned to the bedroom seeking to have a real conversation with Booth. However, the bedroom was empty. Their blankets laid in a ruffled ball in the middle of the mattress. Brennan performed a full circle scan. Obviously Booth had gotten outside. But how had he snuck out without anyone noticing him?

It didn't matter. She needed to find him. Around her shoulders she wrapped a blanket before stepping into a pair of sandals. The cool night engulfed her the moment she set foot on the wooden planks of the deck. Down around the house she walked. Getting close to the shore she could see a trail of footprints had been pressed into the wet sand. Booth. Her gait quickened.

A half a mile away from the house she found him laying on his side in the sand. Her heart jumped into her throat. She jogged the rest of the distance until she fell down onto her knees besides him. "Booth? What happened? Why are you out here? Why didn't you stay in bed? How did you get out?"

His muddled brain was unable to answer all her questions at once. "Trying to run," was all he was able to say.

"You were running away? You really thought in this condition you'd get far? Do you have any idea what that would have done to me? How can you still behave this way?" Her temper reared its ugly head before she could rein it back in. "I'm trying to help you! I've done all this for you! And you'd still be willing to hurt me by just disappearing? By never letting me know what happened to you? You'd leave our children behind-"

He started shuddering. The rest of her angry words died on her lips. Booth was in no way comprehending the effects of his actions. His tumor was affecting his judgment. She wouldn't find it a stretch to believe that it was that sickness that had convinced him that leaving was now his only option. She pulled her blanket from her shoulders and wrapped it around his bare chest and shoulders. "Lets go in, okay? We can discuss this later. I just want you home."

"Can't."

"Why? Do you really still believe you're in any condition to leave?"

His gaze raised to hers. "I can't get up."

* * *

Booth was admitted into the hospital. The surgeon in which he'd been in contact with was paged. Plans were formed with little to no objection by the couple. The tumor growing near his spine was to be taken out as soon as possible. Within a month when asserted he was strong enough the tumor destroying his brain would be removed as well.

Since being placed on a morphine drip Booth had relaxed considerably. Brennan hadn't noticed how hard he'd been battling himself for normalcy until he'd received assistance and could rest. He slept off and on in her presence. She was staring at him intently, lost in thought when he woke from one of his sleeping bouts. "What?" He whispered.

She shrugged. "You're having surgery tomorrow. It should have been done long before now. It should have been scheduled the moment you learned of the second tumor. I know about the will. And I know of your scheme to get me pregnant. You're giving up, and I can't just willingly let it happen."

"Not giving up," he argued. "I just want to protect you, Bones. And I want to give you everything I have with all I've got left."

"It's nothing without you. I don't want what you can give me, Booth." She kissed him. "I want _you_. Please don't stop fighting."

He smiled. "As long as I got you, I won't stop until my last breath. I promise you that."

"Good. I don't believe I can learn to live without you. I don't want to try."

He was falling back under. "Everything's gonna be all right."

Perhaps it would. Maybe it wouldn't. But she knew now her new mission. She needed to see to it that it would.


	137. No It Isn't

Before the sun had even begun to rise nurses arrived to prep Booth for surgery. He was as docile as a newborn kitten as he was poked, prodded, and fussed over. Though Brennan could tell by the hawk eye he kept on his visitors and his heavier breathing that he was far from happy, he allowed them to do their work with no resistance. After they left he flopped backwards onto his pillow and winced shut his eyes. The relief he'd been receiving from the morphine drip had been short lived. His doctors had wanted his body completely free any sort of medication before the surgery. Had it not been such a dire circumstance Brennan imagined they would have preferred to wait until his system was rid of everything. But too much time had already been lost.

He dozed off and on until transportation arrived to take him. The couple kissed a quick goodbye. Brennan returned to the surgical waiting room; an area that was becoming a second home to her, no matter what hospital. To occupy her time until the surgery was finished she sat with her laptop conducting research of alternative treatments. Again it occurred to her that perhaps she should give Dr. Kaplan a call. The vaccine had worked for Booth for a period of time. Maybe there was some way to alter it to advance its effects. The chemical make up could be toyed with until they were able to come across something that worked. She hated the thought of treating Booth like a medical lab guinea pig. However, if it saved his life she deemed it of value.

Dr. Scott appeared ahead of the time allotted for the surgery. Brennan stood in his presence. She'd done a throughout background check of the man before she'd agreed to let him near Booth. The doctor was no Dr. Merck. But since it had been the good doctor who referred Booth on to him, she'd reluctantly let him proceed. Seeing him arrive to speak to her ahead of schedule worried her. His news had the potential to be good or bad. "How is he?"

"The tumor was removed without any problems, and just in time. Another few weeks and he would have been totally immobilized. He's sleeping off the sedation now. Once he starts to wake I'll send someone to fetch for you to come see him in Post Op." He stepped closer and lowered his voice. "There is something else I wanted to speak to you about. It's unpleasant, but it needs to be addressed."

Brennan steeled herself, her spine becoming ram rod straight. "What is it?"

"I looked over his medical history this morning, and I consulted with Dr. Merck. As you know his brain tumor is growing back. It's going to be at least a month before we can safely remove it. During that time due to the rate in which its growing I'm anxious over what's going to happen to his mental state."

She gave a single nod. She too, had been apprehensive as to how they would confront the problem.

"My main concern is both his hallucinations and paranoia returning. If he were to try to become active or thrash around while his body is trying to heal, he could do a lot of damage to himself. So, after careful thought the two of us agreed that his previous addiction needs to be overlooked. We'd like to keep him on a mild sedative, just until the tumor is taken out."

The idea sickened her. "There's no other way?"

"I don't plan on it being a large amount. Just enough to keep him sleepy. Calm. There's other medications I'd like to place him on as well, but we can discuss that at a later time. The last thing I wanted to talk to you about is his pain. I take it he's in a lot?"

"He's giving himself injections all the time. As soon as one wears off he's reaching for another."

Dr. Scott seemed to be expecting this answer. "I was disturbed to see all the needle marks on his hips. I'm concerned about him losing feeling-"

Brennan was reaching her limit. She wished he'd cut to the point. "He already has numbness in his body because of the abuse. As long as his pain is resolved losing sensation in his hips really isn't very much of a concern for me."

"Okay. But what I was thinking was that we'd send him home with some pain patches. They're good for three days. If they don't alleviate his pain, they'll at least dull it considerably. They were designed for cases such as this."

That was reasonable, she decided. "Whatever helps him…"

The sympathetic smile Dr. Scott gave caused more anger than comfort. What did this man know about their struggles? Their strife? She was about to add some sharp tongued words when he excused himself with the promise of her being able to see him soon. She sat back down in her chair with her head in her hands.

* * *

By his second day recovering in the hospital the staff already had Booth on his feet, taking his time pacing the unit. He was advised to be active, but not too active. No bending, lifting, or twisting. Mostly he was too exhausted to do much more than shuffle around like an old man anyway. Brennan always accompanied him. She stayed with him from the time visiting hours began until she was forced to leave in the evening.

On the third day it was decided he was ready to be released, despite his lack of appetite. Food didn't interest him, except for pudding and Jello. Brennan had to fight a smile every time she saw him devour a cup. Some things just didn't change.

Nurses armed her with prescriptions. Each one was carefully explained to her. Antibiotics. Sedatives. Antipsychotics. Genius or not, Brennan felt as though her head was spinning by the overwhelming amount of information. By the time she got Booth home and into bed she couldn't truly recall what medication performed what function. She left him in bed to sleep while she journeyed back out to have the scripts filled. Max was waiting for her when she returned an hour later. "What is it?" He asked, reading how tightly her lips were pressed together. Something was bothering her.

From a bag she removed five amber colored pharmacy bottles. "I'm not entirely comfortable giving him all of these."

"The hospital recommended them though, right?"

"Yes. But what if they're wrong? I don't want him injuring himself because of tumor induced delusions or hallucinations. But I don't want him unable to function, either."

"Try them out, I guess. See how he is, and if you don't like the effects talk to his doctors. You don't have to follow their advice to the letter." He reminded her. "You know him better than anyone."

"I suppose that's true." She agreed softly. The pills inside the bottles rattled as they were placed back in the bag. She started upstairs when Max called after her, "you've never told me if you have news for me."

She paused on the first step. "News?"

"Booth was trying to get you pregnant. Do you know anything? Have you taken a test? You're keeping an old man in suspense here."

Her eyes locked with her father's. She spoke no words, but smiled a little. Then she left to tend to her husband. Max could take her answer however he wanted.

* * *

In the week that passed by Booth did little more than lay. The medications did indeed keep him calm. He slept more than he ever had. In the periods in which he was awake his eyes were glazed over. He didn't hallucinate. If he experienced any sort of anguish he didn't have the energy to act it out. Anytime anyone tried to interaction with him, they hardly ever earned a response.

All along this didn't sit well with Brennan. She engaged in a constant mental argument with herself. When Booth quit eating and she struggled with getting fluid into him, that rage was taken out on another. "This isn't working! He needs something else!" Her words slammed into Dr. Merck over the phone line.

"I get it, Dr. Brennan. All we are trying to do is keep him safe and alive."

"I understand that. But this isn't living! He's… it's as though he's in a waking coma."

"I'm sorry he's experiencing those side effects. But right now it's necessary."

Brennan hung up on him. She pummeled her cell phone down onto the kitchen counter so hard the screen nearly cracked. "No." She spoke out loud. "I'm taking him off something."

"But what?" Max asked gently.

She eyed the bottles one by one. Each one served a different purpose, of course. After minutes of deliberation she chose. "The antipsychotic. If he's sedated then this isn't necessary. He won't hallucinate. Without having this forced on him he'll return to normal functioning again."

Her reasoning was correct. By the following afternoon the spark was back in his eyes. He talked when spoken to. His overall demeanor was much more compliant. Sleep was still his main activity. But given how he'd been she could accept it. Resting was an improvement over being mentally disconnected from the world.

One afternoon he woke feeling as though he were being watched. His eyes opened with suspicion. The world was a blur. He blinked hard to trick his eyes into focusing. When they did he was pleasantly surprised to find Alyssa sitting besides him. She was watching over him with a typical child's curiosity. "Hi," he breathed.

"Daddy feel bad." She declared sadly.

"Yeah. You're right. Daddy isn't feeling very well."

In her small arms she was hugging her stuffed frog tightly to her chest. After a moment she placed it underneath his cheek. Booth lifted his head and pulled it out. "Are you giving me Mr. Ribbit? Thank you, Lissie. But he's your frog. I can't take your friend away from you." When he tried to give it back she pushed it back towards him. Obviously she intended for her stuffed animal to be of comfort for him; to be a "nurse." "Okay. I'll hold on to him for now. And when I'm all better I'll be sure he gets back to you. He's going to miss you."

She tilted her head to one side. The sorrow in her eyes broke his heart. Gingerly he pushed himself up onto an elbow so as he could give her a kiss. She giggled, and patted his face. "Fuzzy."

Since Booth had been in his catatonic state since he'd gotten home from the hospital personal hygiene really hadn't been much of a concern. "Yeah. Daddy needs to shave, huh?" _There's a lot of things I need to do. But I just don't feel up to it. _He grasped her small hand. "Sorry I can't play with you right now." Suddenly he was struck with an idea. "Go pick out a book," he encouraged her.

Alyssa jumped off the bed. She scurried from the room. Booth scooted across the mattress. Just underneath the bed he'd placed a flashlight ages ago in case of any storms that might cause a power outage. Cautiously he rolled himself onto his back. His incision was healing, but with too much pressure the pain still often shocked him.

Alyssa hopped back up besides him with her favorite story. He pulled her close, keeping an arm around her. She laughed happily as he pulled the blankets up over their heads. Cuddled up together, he switched on the flashlight. "Whaddya think?"

She nodded approvingly. "Good."

Between them he tucked Mr. Ribbit. To the first page he turned. If possible she snuggled even closer to him while he read to her in his most soothing tone. Neither one of them heard Brennan start to enter the room with lunch. She paused at the sight before hearing them and grinning to herself. Food could wait. She'd rather them not be bothered.

Her walk back downstairs was prideful. Taking Booth off some of his medication had been the right choice. His doctors were wise. And Brennan trusted them. But Booth wasn't a typical patient, nor was he an average case. What worked for others wasn't necessarily a solution for him. This obviously had been an instance in which her knowledge of him as a person had trumped their medical expertise.

The question now remained: who knew best as to how to get him through the next month?


	138. The Last Step

Time proved Brennan's assumption to be true. With Booth consistently sedated there was no need for any additional medication. He involved himself in little else besides sleep. Not to say that he wasn't ever out of bed. Keeping in line with the hospital's recommendation he incorporated some sort of activity into his daily life. Often times while Brennan was alone in the kitchen he'd slink down the stairs to sit himself down at the table to watch her. The trip was a feat she didn't overlook. While he hardly ever spoke she noticed he seemed to enjoy her company. He'd stay for an hour or so before she'd feel a kiss on her cheek, and his arms around her waist. Then just as suddenly as he'd arrived he'd be gone.

She was on the phone with Angela one afternoon when he came to visit. Max had taken all the children to the park, leaving her with an almost empty house. Booth sidled to his seat. Patiently he held still while Brennan lifted the back of his shirt up to his shoulder blades without interrupting conversation. She did this daily to check on the status of his incision. The sleep and small bouts of activity were doing wonders for his body. She'd never seen one of his wounds heal so fast. She smoothed his shirt back down over the elastic waistband of his pajama bottoms. Before moving on she planted a kiss on the back of his neck. Over his shoulder he smiled at her.

The table top was littered with white sheets of paper printed from a computer. Booth cocked an eyebrow in interest. At one time the pages appeared as though they'd been neat and orderly. He flipped one over to find a page number in the right hand corner. Someone, likely Alyssa, had had a marvelous time wrecking her mother's hard work. Seeing bright red crayon scribbles on the back of one of the pages confirmed his suspicion. Firmly he pressed his index finger down into the heart of one of the sheets. He slid it towards him and picked it up to read.

Brennan ended her phone call. "Are you hungry?" She asked without turning around. "I was going to make grilled cheese for Alyssa for when she comes home from the park. I could make one for you as well, and I'm sure I could make some of my tomato soup that you love."

"What is this?" He asked quietly.

She stood besides him to see what had captured his attention. "Oh. That." Sighing, she removed the flyer from his hand. "I was waiting to speak to you about this when your cognitive state was functioning more properly."

"Why are you looking at a real estate listing for this house?" He tried again. There was no anger in his voice. Just curiosity.

She pulled a chair out across from him and sat down. "I have been toying with the idea of purchasing this house. I thought we could keep it as a nice summer home, or eventually we would ship our things from D.C. and live here. We could sell our old house to make up the financial difference. I've been doing some inquiries as to floor plans, house inspections, seeing what the house is really worth and if it would be to our benefit to make a purchase. I thought we might want to consider a life down here, living on the beach. I know you love it, and my dad takes Alyssa swimming every day." "Swimming" was really more of her father holding the child while she wore floaties in the low tide. "I could see us having a fulfilled life here."

"But… why? What about work?"

Brennan carefully spoke her mind. "Booth, it's highly unlikely you'll ever work for the FBI again. At least, not as an agent."

"I know. But what about the Jeffersonian? You love working there, and you were there long before you and I paired together."

"I've given that some thought. While I did enjoy my time there I believe its time to move on. Being there without you would be a distraction, as the lab is filled with memories. Good ones," she emphasized, laying her hands over his. "But I believe its time to make a difference elsewhere now. I think an over do would be beneficial for all of us."

"A do over." He smirked. "Yeah. Maybe." His gaze landed back down on the stack of papers. A sadness she couldn't explain overtook his eyes. Tightly she squeezed his fists. "I don't have to do anything, Booth. It was just an idea."

"No. I think you should. I mean, we've got time to decide, right? And it would make a nice vacation house if we decided to stay in D.C. Go ahead and make an offer. I just can't really think beyond that right now." His hands withdrew to cradle his head.

"We have time," she agreed. "You need a pain killer. But you shouldn't have it on an empty stomach. Would you like that grilled cheese?"

"No." He lifted his head and squinted at her. "But some soup would be good."

Another victory. Meal times were difficult for him, as his medication made him nauseated. "Do you want to go back to bed and I will bring it to you?"

"No. I feel awake right now. I'd like to stay down here until I get tired."

Within minutes she had a bowl of soup heated up for him. They had a brief chat while he consumed half before declaring himself done. He accepted a pill from her and washed it down will a full glass of water. Then he stood, prepared to return to bed. Before leaving he surprised her with a kiss full of fire; with much more fervor than she imagined he was feeling. His open palm rested on her stomach. She couldn't keep herself from grinning.

"I wish I felt stronger," he breathed in her ear.

"You will, and when you do I'll be waiting."

He winked at her. Again he kissed her before pulling away. She watched him take the stairs one by one. "You _will_ get stronger," she whispered to him.

Since she had Booth's approval, later that day she went ahead and entered a bid in for the beach house. That night at dinner she informed her father of her plans, which they'd already previously discussed. Alyssa broke in through their conversation periodically to relay to her mother with her limited skills all about a friend she had met at the park. "You might want to consider preschool or day care or some kind of playgroup for her," Max suggested. "I think the relationship she has with Booth is wonderful. But she needs to interact with children her own age."

"Yes, I suppose she does need peer interaction. I'll look into it."

Brennan spent a good portion of the next few days researching. When she found a day care facility she was pleased with she took Alyssa for a tour. The small child broke away from her mother the moment they crossed the threshold. She approached a boy and said a few words to him. Soon the two were playing with Lego blocks that were bigger than the size of their petite hands.

Alyssa was enrolled for a few days during each week. She enjoyed herself, while simultaneously taking a large load off of Max and Brennan. In her absence Brennan had more time to do research into alternative therapies for Booth. She placed a call to Dr. Kaplan, only to be informed that the doctor was out of town. Undeterred, she requested for her message to be delivered as soon as possible. Booth's illness was advancing further with every passing day. Finding the key to destroying it was of utmost importance. The sedation was buying them extended time. Being greedy would only end in disaster.

Brennan had just returned to her car after leaving Alyssa at day care one morning when her phone rang. She fished it from her purse and answered without looking at the caller ID. "Brennan."

"Tempe! You need to get home!"

Her heart lurched at the sound of her father's panic. "What? Why?"

"It's Booth. Something's not right. _He's _not right. I don't know what to do."

"I'm on my way."

She drove in fear of what awaited her at home. What exactly did her father mean, Booth wasn't right? All night he'd slept peacefully beside her. That morning she'd prepared to leave all the while the sedation worked its magic. His strength was waning, and so she couldn't perceive him fighting his medication. None of it made an iota of sense to her.

Max was standing in the kitchen with a towel pressed to his forehead when she bustled in the front door. "What happened?" She called to him as she took off her coat.

"I think we need to call paramedics. He needs to be hospitalized, Tempe. He's dangerous."

"Calm down. What happened?" She peeled the towel away to glimpse his forehead. A thin red slash started at his hairline and crept downwards towards his opposite eyebrow.

"He hit me, that's what! He isn't in his right mind."

"That's impossible." She moved on to retrieve a first aid kit from the bathroom. "He's sedated. He doesn't have the energy."

"Do you know for sure he's sedated?"

Her anger flared. "I give his medication to him every morning."

"Have you actually seen him take it? Sweetie, if his paranoia has returned and he doesn't trust you, who's to say he was swallowing his pills? How do you know he wasn't waiting until you left to spit them back out?"

It was a possibility she hadn't considered.

"You made a mistake. He never should have been taking off that antipsychotic. Obviously he needed it."

"Where is he? Still in the bedroom?"

"Yes, he's barricaded himself inside. I'd rather we call the police before you go up there."

"We don't need the police." She ascended the stairs. "He won't hurt me."

"You don't know that!"

The bedroom door was shut. "Yes, I do." She whispered to the hardwood. Cautiously she opened up and entered. With the blinds still drawn the room was darkened. Booth had sat himself down onto the floor next to the bed. His back was up against the wall. His arms were a mess of bloodied wounds. Her eyes were met with his deadened stare. They narrowed into a squint. There was no denying it. He was hallucinating. Her presence meant nothing to him. She wasn't his wife, and she definitely wasn't a friend. "Booth," she tried softly. "It's me. You know me. I'm not Amanda. I don't have any intention of hurting you."

Upon closer inspection she could see somehow he'd obtained a knife, which was responsible for his self inflicted injuries. Knowing he had a weapon frightened her, not for her own safety but for his. She knew how willing he was in this state of mind to take his own life. Tentatively she stepped towards him. "I need you to listen to me, okay? You aren't well. Whatever you are seeing or hearing isn't real. I'm sure there's a woman here in this room other than me. I can assure you, she's a figment of your imagination. Please don't listen to her."

Sure enough, his eyes flicked away from hers briefly to stare into thin air.

"This is my own fault," Brennan continued on. "I was foolish in believing you didn't need medication that you so clearly did. But I can make it better. I can make you feel better. I just need you to trust me. Can you do that?" She made another move.

In turning his attention back to her she saw his eyes narrow again. She searched his face for an idea of what he was thinking. There was no visible trace of any hatred. But she couldn't help noticing that whenever his sight was directed elsewhere, towards where she imagined he was seeing Amanda, his eyes opened wide. When she spoke to him and he faced her, they half closed into a squint. "Booth." She took a chance by striding the rest of the distance and dropping down onto one knee before him. "Can you see me?"

With her kneeling right before him the shape of his eyes righted. They scanned the length of her, and she discerned that his vision was working properly. But when she backed away and spoke again, that same look came over him. "You attacked Max because you couldn't see him. You're paranoid and hallucinating, and you can't see." She murmured more to herself than him. "You're losing your sight."

He glanced again in Amanda's direction. Her words had power over him. Brennan helplessly watched as he produced his hidden knife. She leapt over to the dresser where his medications were shelved. Just as he'd begun to cut into the tender skin on his wrist she got down on her knees besides him for a second time. "Booth, please don't listen to her. You don't want to do this. You don't want to die. Here," she twisted the cap off one of the amber bottles and tapped a pill into her hand. "I promise this will make you feel better. She'll go away. Whatever it is you're seeing will stop. Please!"

He gazed into her face with the expression of a frightened little boy. The pill remained in her hand as he studied it. For lack of a better idea she tempted fate by leaning her body against his, and kissing him with all the passion she had stored inside of her. The distraction allowed her to extract the knife away from him. She raked her fingers through his hair. "C'mon, Booth. I need you to trust me. Remember who I am!"

Stripped away of what he deemed was his only defense, he gave in and accepted the pill. She wept quietly as he swallowed it. His eyes winced shut and his steely muscles released. He slumped sideways into the wall. Brennan lifted him up into their bed. She laid herself down next to him and took him into her arms. "It's going to be okay," she promised. Back and forth she stroked his chest muscles. She kissed his cheek; his neck. Sporadically he trembled until the pill got to work. Tiredly his eyes closed. He snuggled closer to her. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," she argued. "I'm sorry I allowed this to happen. I should have known better. I'm not a doctor. All I want is to help you."

"Gotta get this tumor out," he slurred. "Bones, I don't know… how much longer…"

"I'm calling Dr. Scott first thing in the morning. You can't go on like this." None of them could.

His body was making strides forward while his mind was setting him back. Enough time had elapsed. Now it was time to act.


	139. A Little's Enough

Booth felt as though his brain had been filled with static for days. The tranquil place he'd been in for weeks was violently stolen away from him as he was forced into a life of the living. Though he'd continued to lay his mind had planted the seeds of paranoia and nourished them into growing. _"They're letting you die." "You can't stay here. Do you see what they're doing to you?" "No one cares about you. This will never end unless you kill yourself. Stop playing by their rules. Take control." _

Seeing Amanda had been the cherry on top of the icing. She too, convinced him of how worthless his life was; how those who were helping him were in all reality plotting against him. Without any touch stone rooting him to reality he simply went mad. Attacking Max had been a mistake. Amanda had encouraged him to do it, but had he been able to see his father in law he would have kept himself from being so aggressive. Daily his sight was diminishing. It was fortunate that Brennan had been able to break the hold his invisible nemesis had on him. Deep down in his heart he knew that given the chance he would have allowed her to win. If no one had came to his aid he would surely have died.

Accepting the pill from her had been like entering a whole new world. Amanda disappeared before she could tease him with another harsh word. The fog in his brain parted for pure sunshine. His eyes had been closed and so he hadn't been able to see Brennan. But his heart had realized her. He'd breathed every inch of her in, and melted into her arms. She'd rejected his sorrow but he still felt it despite her best reassurances. If he'd had more strength he would have been tempted to run again. Where he would have gone or what he would have done didn't matter. Hurting those around him with his erratic behavior was one of his worst nightmares come true.

The medications kept him in a stupor for the remainder of the afternoon and evening. Briefly he woke in the overnight hours parched. Getting to the bathroom was a challenge, as his feet didn't want to cooperate any more than his eyesight. He stumbled into walls and tripped over carpeting. But the errand was successful. He returned to bed to fall back into his coma like sleep.

The next instance in which he opened his eyes he found that the sun was shining in through white curtains, which flapped in the breeze from an open window. A figure had their back towards him. Clipped pieces of conversations floated back to ears in a female tone. "Yes. He needs to be seen right away. He had a severe episode yesterday, and is having difficulties with his vision. I don't care what has to be done, this is an emergency and you will see him!"

Booth smiled. Bossy Brennan was just as attractive to him as Alpha Booth was to her. He sighed out a groan. The figure swirled in a circle. It drew close until a face materialized by his side. "Booth? How are you feeling?"

"Pain," he slurred in a voice that was no longer his own. "And I'm ashamed."

She sat down next to him, linking her hand with his. "Fine. We'll be there," she answered to her phone. She set the device down next to her. "We have an appointment with Dr. Scott in an hour. You have no reason to feel embarrassed, Booth. I stopped your medication. I shouldn't have done that. I'm no where near versed in medications. I believe your eyesight would have suffered regardless, but it's my fault you had such a terrible hallucination."

"She wanted me to kill myself." He rubbed his hands over the sore, damaged skin on his arms.

"I know."

"I would have, Bones."

He felt her shudder. "I know," she whispered.

She assisted him in tending to himself. Though showering wasn't an option he held still so she could shave the beard that had grown. He kept his eyes closed all throughout. His head felt better when he wasn't trying to identify the world surrounding him. Soon he felt soft terry cloth touch his cheeks and chin. "Thanks." He couldn't stand how he sounded. If he could think straight then why wouldn't his words come out as such?

She led him into the bedroom where she dressed him. Together they hobbled downstairs taking them one at a time. Max was making breakfast for the children. Booth's hearing faded out for a few seconds before tuning back in again. A high pitched squeal pierced through his ears into his mind. He gasped a breath and lowered his head. What was happening to him? He knew he had been getting progressively worse, but over night it seemed he'd begun spiraling. "Sorry," he tried to apologize to Max, having no idea of the conversation he was interrupting.

"Come on, Booth." Brennan gave his arm a gentle tug. Outside she sat him down in the passenger seat of her car. She reached into the glove box and removed a pair of sunglasses. She used them to shield his eyes. While they didn't improve his vision any he felt less of a strain. "That's so much better," he breathed.

"I thought perhaps your eyes had become light sensitive. We'll leave them on."

He wouldn't let her get away without another kiss. "I'm so sorry, Bones."

"Booth, I don't want you worrying about this now. You did nothing wrong. I want you to just rest."

The sound of the radio humming quietly lured him to a sleep on the way to Dr. Scott's office. He was surprised when he was woken outside of the clinic. All of a sudden on his way inside reality was suspended. The world took on a dream like glow. Everything felt surreal. Instead of walking he now floated besides his wife. That feeling stayed with him long after he was laid down on an exam table. He'd kept on the sunglasses but even with them the harsh lights overhead were too much for his eyes to accept. He winced them shut.

Consciously he knew activity was taking place around him. He could hear a door open, and the sounds of footsteps and voices while that door closed again. Hands probed his body. He let out a moan when the shades were taken away from his eyes.

"Booth, can you look at me please?" A voice requested. Against his better judgment he obeyed. A bright white light was shined straight into his pupils. He felt as though searing heat were burning his retinas. He struggled until he was released. Blindly he reached for his sunglasses.

"He can't wait anymore," he heard Brennan say. "The incision on his back is healing nicely. I believe he's as strong as he is going to get in his recovery state. Every day he worsens more."

The same high frequency whine he'd heard back inside his home drowned her out. He pulled his hands over his ears. Didn't anyone else hear it? Couldn't someone do something?

"You never should have taken him off the antipsychotic!" The angry male voice boomed. "It's no wonder he had an episode!"

"That has nothing to do with the state he's in now! I can't ask him to wait anymore! There's no reason to. That tumor needs to be removed before it's too late to do anything!"

Booth sat up. He turned his head to try and watch the two. Brennan and Dr. Scott were both on their feet facing one another.

"I have discussed everything with Dr. Merck. I understand his reservations, and I have them as well. One mistake and he could easily end up brain dead or paralyzed."

"But by taking no action you are effectively killing him!"

"I was hoping to establish another line of treatment to bring the tumor back down in size instead of charging in and hoping for the best."

"At another time that would have been fine. But there are no options left here. This must be done as soon as possible."

"I understand that, but-"

Booth didn't think Dr. Scott understood at all. "Do you not see me?" He butted in. "I can't see. I can barely walk. I'm slurring. This has all only started in the last week. I think it's pretty damn obvious that we've run out of time. I get that I could die. I get all the risks. But doing nothing is worse. I attacked my father in law yesterday. I did this to myself!" He held up his arms. "And yeah, Bones stopped giving me one of my medications. But this shouldn't be happening with or without it! Please," he bowed his head to another painful pressure taking place in his brain. "Just quit arguing and take it out!"

Dr. Scott was silent. Finally, he agreed. "I know this is rough for you. I just worry about the future. I had a patient years ago who continuously developed brain tumors. No matter how many times they were removed they just grew back, till eventually they killed him. Given that your cancer hasn't been resolved I worry about that happening to you. But you're right. This sudden onset is a sign of deeper problems. My receptionist will set you up on my surgery schedule. After the procedure I'll speak again with Dr. Merck on how to proceed forward." The doctor mutely excused himself.

Booth near collapsed back onto the table. He could hear Brennan conversing with him but couldn't focus on her words. Again he felt drunk, or as if he'd been thrown overboard into a large body of water. Absolutely nothing registered to him until he was back upstairs tucked safely into his own bed. The sunglasses remained perched on his face while he slept on and off. Most times he came to on his own. But at one point it was a child's voice calling, "daddy, daddy!" that brought him out of his slumber. Alyssa was gripping his thumb. "For you!" She extended a folded piece of paper.

Straight up he sat. Delicately he pulled his daughter into his lap. "What have we got here?" He set his chin down on the top of her head. Together they opened it. At day care she'd drawn a series of scribbles with different colored crayons. He listened patiently as she explained how each scribble was a different member of their family. A cat and a dog had been thrown into the mix. If she was capable of such a thought process at her age he would have been sure she was trying to hint at something. Then again, maybe getting a dog wouldn't be such a bad idea.

The next time he roused it was Brennan laying besides him. His eyes rolled up to find hers. She tried to smile, and even with his limited sight he could see she'd been crying. "Bones?" He reached for her hand.

"Your surgery is tomorrow."

"…I know." He didn't. "It'll be all right. It'll be for the better. I won't feel like this anymore."

"What if something happens to you?"

He had no comforting, definitive answer for her. "I'm just gonna try my hardest, okay? I know it's going to take a while to recover. But I've been through this before."

"That's what concerns me. What if this keeps happening to you? What if a new tumor develops every few years-"

"It won't."

"You don't know that." She began to cry again. He brushed her tears away with his thumb. "Yes, I do. Bones, I need you to believe in me right now more than you ever have. I need your trust that I can get through this, okay? You gotta be my eyes, and my voice." He chuckled. "You believe, and then you leave the rest up to me."

"I can try." She exhaled deeply. "After your surgery I think I might take a trip back out to Las Vegas. I've left a few messages for Dr. Kaplan. I am thinking that we can try different formulas of the vaccine you were given before, and that one of them may be the cure for you."

That sounded like a plan. Only, "I don't know if I'm going to be in any shape to travel."

"I know. I would leave you here to be cared for by my father."

Booth made a face that relayed his displeasure. Brennan nodded. "I know it's not ideal, but you could be developing another tumor somewhere in your body right now. We need to put an end to this. How much is too much? How much more can your body take?"

"I told you I'd fight, Bones. And I have every intention of doing so. Do what you need to do. I'll deal."

She kissed him tenderly. He wiggled his body closer to hers, drawing in the heat from her skin. Though she tried to keep the exchange between them chaste he naturally tried for more. "No, Booth." She smirked.

"Give me one reason why not."

"I can think of several."

"C'mon," he whispered. "Give me tonight."

As usual his pleading worked. She gave him all he wanted, and more.

* * *

In the twilight hours of dawn Brennan lay awake. Booth's head was on her shoulder; his ravaged arm wrapped around her stomach. She tilted her head to gaze at him. Soon they would have to begin their day by making a trek back to the hospital. But this time, unlike the others, she felt a strange sense of positiveness. "We'll be all right," she promised him.


	140. The Vow

**A Few Days Later**

"Right now may not be an opportune time to travel to Las Vegas." Brennan was startled by the sound of her own voice. She was taken by admitting the thought she'd been thinking for days, but had yet to speak. Fortunately she was home, away from the one person she wouldn't want hearing her.

Tonight was the first night she was back among her family following Booth's surgery. The procedure had gone well, not to say that he hadn't woken with expected complications. There'd been some swelling in his brain which Dr. Scott had been prepared for. Medications had been given accordingly. The result was an onset of different problems. A low grade fever stubbornly refused to lower. Focusing was a difficult task. The words in his sentences ran together, when they could be understood. He had numbness in his hands, and his upper body strength was lacking. These would all be issues Brennan could deal with, if not for the fact that at times Booth strained just to identify her. If she was out of sight for any significant period of time when she returned he'd stare at her through half open eyes. She'd see the light spark within them and know he'd recognized her. The only positive side in which she could see to this was that Amanda no longer haunted him. She was gone, and Brennan hoped banished once and for all.

Around the clock she'd been spending all of her time with him in the hospital. That evening he'd done his best to dismiss her once she'd received word from her father that Alyssa had been acting up. She'd purposefully broken a vase by heaving a rubber ball at it. Booth hadn't been mentioned but they but thought it obvious that was why the child was acting aggressive. "You sho' go hum." Booth insisted.

"I should stay with you. You need me. My father has Alyssa. She'll be all right."

He'd exhaled harshly, a motion he'd come to do frequently. "No-ah. Needz you. And twinz."

"What about you?"

"Sleep." He shut his eyes. "So tire."

She'd kissed his bandaged forehead. His smile had stretched across the length of his face. Until he'd fallen asleep she'd waited. Then she'd reluctantly left him for the evening. Getting home she understood immediately that Booth had been right. Alyssa had been crying on the floor, kicking her legs as furiously as they'd pump. The twins had been screaming their own disapproval. Max had more than a handful.

But now that the night time hours had set in and the children were fast asleep in their beds her thoughts had come pouring out to her father. Together they'd sat down in kitchen. "I'm needed here," she added to her previous thought.

"I'm not going to deny that this is a little more than I can handle. But hire a live in nanny, then. Or a nurse to take care of Booth. You need to go, Tempe." Her father urged. "Time is critical, right?"

Slowly she nodded. "His brain tumor advanced quickly after we stopped his treatments. The chances of him developing another tumor in a different location are great. If it were to occur in another vital organ, we would run the risk of not having the appropriate amount of time to allow him to recover before putting his body through more trauma."

"See? It sounds necessary that you leave. Has Dr. Kaplan called you?"

"No. But I received an email from her. She'll be back in her office next week, and she's open to continuing our research." Her colleague had been stunned that Booth's disease had returned. Just as everyone else had she'd assumed after the last great fight his time struggling with cancer would be over. As upbeat as she tried to remain Brennan worried that his battle for his life would be never ending. His courage was an inspiration.

"Then you should go. Really. He's depending on you."

Her gaze dropped down to her folded hands. In the faint kitchen light they came across as being frail in appearance. But there was one detail that stood to her. She'd never realized that throughout their lives together they'd never picked out wedding rings as they'd planned to do. Three children later and their fingers still remained without a symbol of their love. It meant little to Brennan. But she knew it held importance for Booth. Life had distracted them, but she wondered now if he'd ever thought about it. "I'll ask Booth what he thinks." She rubbed her thumb over her ring finger. "But I think there's something I would like to do for him first."

* * *

Booth was only semi conscious when Brennan arrived to see him the following morning. She sat down at his side without saying a word. While he observed she massaged the muscles in his forearm before spreading her efforts up to his bicep. He sighed a pleasurable moan. Before her eyes he emerged from his shell. His lips curved into a half smile.

"Good morning." She kissed him. "How are you feeling?"

He made an distinguishable sound. She frowned. "Has Dr. Scott been to see you?"

_No, _he shook his head. He muttered a few sounds of gibberish. To one side his head slid onto his pillow so he could meet her eyes fully. Sometime during the overnight hours his condition had changed. Despite all the sleep his exhaustion was clear as day. "Did you rest at all last night?" She questioned. "Are you in pain?"

Her inquiries were ignored. He tried to reach for her hand only to grasp her wrist. She noticed the difficulty he had in tightening the hold. He had the grip of an infant, and was just as awkward with his fingers.

"Booth, please focus." She removed his hand from her wrist and held it between her two palms. "I need to talk to you about an important matter."

His body stilled. Patiently he waited for her to begin. She knew her time window of obtaining and keeping his attention was brief. She needed to proceed swiftly. "I need to leave for Las Vegas. I worry that if I don't meet with Dr. Kaplan to continue looking into a cure for you that time will be wasted. With how fast the cancer is infecting you I am fearful that you will develop another tumor before I can find a way to fight it. But I also am concerned about leaving you in this stage of your recovery. I need to know if you'd rather I stay, or if you feel I should leave?"

He blinked a few times at her before his wrist went limp in her arms. His head rolled to the opposite side. Brennan's spirits sunk. His comprehension was poor. "Please," she pleaded in his ear. "I don't want you to feel as though you've been abandoned." Her heart was crushed at the thought of him thinking such a thing.

His head lolled back to her. "Go," he finally grunted. "Bonezz."

"I'll hire a nurse for you when you are discharged, so you won't be dependant on my father." She reasoned a nurse would be far more beneficial in his recovery. While she wasn't comfortable with having a stranger in her home being entirely responsible for him, she'd decided it a necessary evil. He required more than any of them could provide.

"Hmm." His eyes near closed. She noticed his muscles turn to stone. Without disturbing him she reached into his bed to fish for his pain killer remote. Upon finding it she depressed the button to deliver him medicine. Within moments the rigidity eased. All the symptoms in which she'd seen upon at her arrival vanished. "Booth?" She inserted the remote into his hand, prying his thumb loose to cover the activation button.

It slipped out of his grip. He couldn't feel it, nor did he have the strength to complete the process. If he'd managed to sleep at all in the hours she'd been absent then it was more than plausible no one would have noticed. "I'll mention this to Dr. Scott. I will be sure you are taken care of before I leave. I wish I could bring you with me," she whispered. He'd given her the answer she'd been seeking, but that didn't mean that she was all right with it. "But I'll be sure you're taken care of."

His breathing had already deepened into the telltale rhythm of sleep. For a few moments she loitered in the room to watch him before at last tearing herself away. She needed to make arrangements for her abrupt trip. But before that, there was another matter she wanted to take care of.

* * *

The best way Booth could have explained to anyone how he felt, was cotton. That's all he could think of. It'd lodged in his mouth, depriving him of all moisture and leaving him to constantly lick at his lips. His brain had been replaced with a soft, fluffy swab of it. It clogged the areas involved in the process of thinking, hence why it was so difficult for him to remember faces. Another thick wad had jammed in the space reserved for his spatial awareness. It numbed his entire body, focused particularly on his hands. Often he lay awake at night worrying he'd never regain the sensation. The idea of never being able to feel his children in his arms terrified him. Never being able to fire a gun was unfathomable. Sure, it was more than likely he'd never return to the FBI. But that didn't mean that he'd give up his firearms. If needed, he had every intention of protecting his family. Besides, he'd always found solace at the shooting range. Without this outlet he was unsure of what to do with himself. His entire career had been centered around his abilities as a marksman.

He did no more than lay awake depressed by his own thoughts. His anxieties. The lack of his doctor's reassurance. He'd overheard Dr. Scott telling a colleague of how amazed he was that Booth didn't have more brain damage. The words weren't meant to be heard - both doctors were outside speaking softly. But Booth had still heard them, and made sense of them in a world where little did. The life he'd built back for himself was over. Amanda had won in the end. This he'd come to realize for the first time. She may not have killed him. But she'd stolen his life away.

He'd been napping when he was awoken - by what he couldn't be sure. But his eyes fluttered open to find Brennan standing over him. Behind her was a priest. His eyes flickered back and forth between the two before his heart seized with panic. _I'm dying. She's gotten a priest to come read me my last rites! _Weakly he pushed himself up in a sitting position. He silently begged Brennan for an explanation.

"Hi," she smiled slightly. "I'm leaving this evening. I have my trip set. However, there was a matter I wanted to take care of before I go. It's a matter we've let go on for too long. I only just recently became aware of it, and I'm sorry for that."

He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. _You're not making any sense to me, Bones._

A reddened rouge appeared across her cheeks. "I feel silly," she told both Booth and the priest. "This is your thing. Not mine. But I know what it means to you, and I feel its important. And so I want to do this."

She was doing nothing to ease his rattled nerves. He watched as she reached within her purse to retrieve two velvet boxes. With a curt nod to the priest she opened them as he began to speak passages from the bible about love. Inside each of the boxes were wedding rings. She held his hand and slid a simple gold band onto his ring finger. For his part she helped him apply the diamond ring onto her own finger. She bumped her forehead gently against his. "I love you," she whispered.

His eyes hadn't left the gift she'd given him. "Love you, Bonezz." His head lifted to kiss her whole heartedly. "Gon' be okay."

"Yes," she agreed. "I believe it is."


	141. Home Is Where The Heart Is

Brennan knew well she should have anticipated the anxiousness she would feel being separated from Booth. Leaving him had never been easy, and over time as his illness had worsened so had her increasing uncertainty. But she was leaving him in good hands, she tried to reassure herself. Over the phone she'd interviewed the nurse she'd ended up hiring. The situation wasn't ideal, as she would have much rather had a face to face - sit down conversation. But being so pressed for time she had little choice. Impressed by her credentials, Brennan hired her at once.

The start of her time in Las Vegas was frustrating. Three days passed before Dr. Kaplan returned from her vacation. In that time frame Brennan was left with little to do but stew. Idle. She made numerous daily calls to the hospital to check in with Booth. But their conversations were always cut short. After a few minutes of nonsensical slurring on Booth's part Brennan would give up trying to get through to him. She'd hang up feeling downtrodden and alone.

Angela and Max did their best to fill in the missing pieces. "He looks all right, sweetie. Well, as well as anyone who's been through multiple surgeries can."

"How are his hands? Has he regained any sense of feeling within them?"

"I don't know. He doesn't exactly reach for anything when I visit him. He mostly just listens to me."

Her father provided no more comfort than Angela did. "He's usually sleeping whenever I visit him. I'm sorry, Tempe. I wish I had more to tell you."

According to Dr. Scott all was proceeding with Booth as it should. But at night she often laid awake wondering just what that meant. She second guessed every decision she'd made leading up to their separation. Unable to see Booth for herself was damning. A constant ache took up residence in her belly.

Research hurtled forward as soon as Dr. Kaplan returned home. A complete history documented in Booth's medical files were waiting for them, per Brennan's order. Dr. Kaplan sent out for samples of tissues, and blood work for her own analysis. The Jeffersonian remained in touch. In any way they could help her former colleagues offered their assistance. There wasn't much anyone was able to do, but at times Brennan could appreciate their outside perspective.

During this time Booth was released from the hospital. He was brought home to start his care under Nurse Carol. Later Brennan found out that this regimen only lasted for a few weeks. Once Booth was coherent enough he fired his help. Brennan was aghast when she'd called Carol to check in. "He fired you?"

"Yes. He told me I reminded him of someone, and he was uncomfortable around me."

Brennan's palm rose to her forehead in realizing her error. She'd never bothered to check into Carol's physical appearance. Her next call was to her father. "Who's taking care of Booth?"

"Um. Well." Max was flustered. "He is."

She blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"Yeah. He's managing his own care. He's mobile. He showers. He eats. He takes his medication. He was shown some physical therapy exercises to improve his hands, and he does them regularly."

She couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. "So he's all right on his own?"

"As all right as he's ever been."

"Can you ask him to activate his webcam tonight, around ten o'clock your time?" Seeing was believing. She figured at that hour Alyssa should have been well asleep. Without asking she was sure the child was back to barely letting her father out of sight. And knowing Booth, he was probably allowing it.

"I can ask him, sure."

Brennan practically counted the minutes until the appointed hour came around. She rushed to her hotel room. Often she left her laptop on standby to save her the complication of having to wait for the machine to boot up. With a finger traced across the touch pad it awakened. On top of her bed spread she sat down with it, all the while sending a chat request to Booth. Minutes ticked by in which she went unanswered. Just as she was about to give up hope she heard the familiar jingle of an established connection. A click of a button brought Booth onto her screen.

The scene was reminiscent of ones in the past. Booth laid on his side in bed. The lights were off in their bedroom. In the light of his computer monitor she could see the bandage still covering his head. Dark, tired circles marred his eyes. But his authentic smile warmed her frozen cold heart. She gasped. "You look exhausted." There were a thousand better openings she could have used. But that was the first thought that popped out of her uncensored lips.

"I am. But I'm doing okay." The slurring of his words had greatly improved. If she closed her eyes there was nothing in his voice that foretold the trauma he'd been through. "Max says you are able to care of yourself. I'm pleasantly surprised."

"Me too." He chuckled. "I didn't really like that nurse. I felt bad getting rid of her, but I just didn't like having her around."

"I know. I'm sorry for that. I should have done a better job screening for a caretaker before I left."

He pulled a pillow and set it underneath his head. His eyes closed. In what rare light she was able to see by she noticed how tightly his arm muscles suddenly clenched. The motion spread throughout his entire body. Then just as quick as its onset he was loose again. "Are you all right?" She wondered.

"Fine. Just missing you."

_No, _she thought to herself. _You're uncomfortable. Or you're in pain. Something's off. _"No, Booth. You just became tense."

His eyes flipped back open with a furrowed brow. "No, I didn't. I feel good, Bones. Mostly. My head still hurts, but that's normal. Dr. Scott says I'm doing well, and there hasn't been any sign of any new tumors. Nothing's formed. For the first time in months I got nothing going on in me. Oh, and my hands are better." He wiggled a few of his fingers at her.

He came across as being so genuine that she wasn't sure what she believed. Could she have imagined it? He'd been sick for so long, it was feasible to think so. The shadows in his bedroom could have aided in playing a trick on her mind. "That's good. I'm glad to hear it."

"I just wish you were here."

"Me too. But I am doing important work here."

"Saving my life." He was falling asleep. "Saving me."

"Yes."

"But I still wish you could come home soon."

She swallowed back a large lump in her throat. "Me too."

* * *

All night thoughts of Booth prevented her from being able to sleep. Anytime she closed her eyes she saw Booth wincing. She interrogated herself, taking up a new form of mental torture. Had her eyes deceived her? Had she grown so used to seeing him ill that her mind was now picturing signals that didn't exist? The shame she felt burned her cheeks red. What sort of terrible person did that make her?

There was a chance he was lying. They all knew how proficient he'd become at hiding his real condition. But there'd been such confidence in his tone. She often was unaware when he was fibbing. This time though, she perceived that he really believed. It was the truth.

As soon as dawn approached she phoned Dr. Scott, hoping he would be able to spin a different story and put her concern to rest. She left a message, eagerly answering when he returned her call an hour or so later. She gave him a run down of what she'd seen, and been told. Dr. Scott gave his confirmation. "He's healthy, Dr. Brennan. As healthy as he can be right now. There's no tumors. He's healing at an incredible rate."

Both relief and suspicion fought her insides for control. She recalled yet again Booth's conversation. "But he seems so lethargic, and run down."

"You need to remember, in his lifetime this is the third surgery he's had on his brain. I can understand how you would be expecting faster improvement. But he's on track. I'm pleased with his progress. I don't know what you saw last night. But I can tell you he's telling the truth. There's nothing wrong with him at the moment."

Though she did her best to let Dr. Scott appease her mind, she still took her worry to work with her. Not before long Dr. Kaplan was questioning her melancholy mood. She gave her colleague a basic overview. She'd no more finished before her friend was frowning. "It's fathomable that you could have imagined it. Maybe he was stretching."

"I hadn't thought of that." Brennan admitted. "I suppose its possible. I just received the impression that he was uncomfortable." Her heart throbbed with sadness. "He really wants me to come home."

Dr. Kaplan looked up from the slide she'd been studying under a microscope. "Would you be better off at home with him? I know you want to be involved in finding a cure. But if your thoughts aren't focalized then you aren't much of an asset to me, no offense."

"I can compartmentalize." Brennan instantly argued.

"That may have once been true," Dr. Kaplan said gently. "And maybe with most things in your life, it is. But you haven't been able to put Booth anywhere out of your mind. You're his wife. You love him. There's nothing wrong with it. If you need to go home, for nothing else but your own assurance of his health, then go. You can always come back."

"I… suppose that's true." She allotted. "Perhaps for the immediate present that would be a better option for me."

"Go home, Dr. Brennan. Fly back out when you're ready. And maybe by then he'll be well enough to travel with you. That would benefit us."

"Yes. I… guess I'll go home."

* * *

By the time Brennan made all the necessary arrangements and boarded a flight, it was late evening when she again touched down. A cab from the airport brought her straight to the front door of their summer home. Her key was twisted in the lock when Max opened. "Tempe? What are you doing here?"

She pushed in past him. "Where's Booth?"

"Upstairs with Alyssa. Resting. Why didn't you tell me you were coming home? I would have picked you up from the airport."

"No time." She shrugged off her coat. "Has anything seemed out of place with him lately? Has he seemed like he's in pain, or experiencing any kind of discomfort?"

Max laughed softly. "Of course he has. You'd expect him not to, with the surgery he's been through?"

"No. That's not what I mean." Impatiently she explained the story yet again. Max gaped at her as though she'd lost her mind. "So you flew home without any notice because of something you may or may have not seen on a crappy webcam in a dark room?"

"Well when its phrased that way, yes I am aware it sounds absurd. But I needed to see him with my own eyes. I needed to know." She gave him no opportunity for a rebuttal. She took the steps upstairs two at a time. The bedroom door had been left ajar. Reluctantly she edged it open and stepped inside. Her eyes took a moment before adjusting to the darkness. When at last she could see, she smiled.

Booth was sound asleep. He laid on his back, with several blankets piled on top of him. One arm was folded across his stomach. The other was wrapped around the petite body of his daughter. Alyssa was folded up in a ball. Mr. Ribbit was clutched in her arms. Her head laid down on her father's chest, and she still had her thumb tucked in her mouth. They were a picture of serenity.

Brennan crawled into bed next to them. Booth was the first to open his eyes. His chin tilted to look at her, though he had to squint to see her in the dark. "Bones." It'd been some time since she'd heard such happiness in his voice.

The small movement stirred Alyssa. She too, peered up at her mother before yelling, "MOMMY!" and falling into her arms. Brennan cradled her close. She then took her spot cuddled against Booth's body.

With the exception of the twins the family was reunited. Being with the both of them nailed the point home. Brennan was exactly where she needed to be.


	142. Believe

**A Few Months Later**

When the package arrived from the overnight courier, Brennan could hardly believe the box she clutched tightly in her hands. Knowing what lay inside waiting for her was cause for both stress and celebration. Hope and fear. Overall life and death. Time slowed down. The sound of her heart pounding drowned out the earlier din of her children playing while her father supervised. Reality couldn't penetrate the new world she'd dropped into. Nor did she want it to. Nothing was allowed to steal her faith. _Nothing._

She coaxed her legs to move forth into the living room. Her father sat on the couch with Riley and Daniel toying at his feet. His eyes raised to hers, and he gave a curt nod. No words needed to pass between them. A picture was worth a thousand words, and her expression said more than any combination of words her voice could piece together. Max knew what she had been expecting. Knowing that it had arrived was a relief for him just as much as it was for her.

Over the course of the past few months their emotions had been riding on an out of control roller coaster. For the first month Brennan had been home all had seemed to look up. The sun had burst through the dark clouds as Booth truly recovered without suffering from any ailments. Since the beach house was theirs, they'd slowly but surely had items shipped down from their home back in Washington D.C. The house was developing its own personality with every amendment. For Booth and Brennan it was a haven against the storm that had been beating against their shutters for entirely too long.

After two months Brennan had finally acknowledged she was pregnant again. She met with a doctor every two weeks at her own insisting more so than the physician's. Given all that had occurred previously she just didn't want to take any chances. All was progressing along beautifully. The baby she was carrying was perfectly healthy. Brennan looked forward to the nursery they soon would be constructing for the child. Booth too, was eager to move forward. Naturally, disaster had to strike.

Brennan hadn't seen Booth display any more instances like the one she had over the webcam. She learned to mean that not noticing them meant nothing. Early one evening Booth went for a walk alone along the shoreline. He never returned. By dusk Brennan was near out of her mind with worry. She'd gone running along the beach with a flashlight. Booth had made it a few miles from home before he'd collapsed down in the sand. When she'd stumbled on him he was barely able to breathe. So dazed he was, that she was unrecognizable to him. But he was too weak to fight for himself. Willing he was to let anyone do whatever they desired to him.

In the hospital he'd been turned into a guinea pig. Tests, tests, and more tests were performed on his body. He was scanned, poked, and injected. Sample after sample of tissue and blood were taken. No one could quite believe the war that had struck up within his body in such a short period of time. What had only so long ago been so healthy had exploded with tumors. His blood cells were attacking each other. Doctors had declared him inoperable. A write off. He'd only been given six more months of life. From that moment on he shut down. What was to happen would, he'd told Brennan when she'd questioned his negative turn of spirit. There was just no point in trying anymore. The following day he signed him out from the hospital against everyone's advice, and without his family's knowledge. He took a taxi back home.

The stress and emotional turmoil nearly caused Brennan to elapse into a full on mental breakdown. She wouldn't return to Las Vegas. But sitting at home watching Booth waste away was no better. She'd phoned Dr. Kaplan, begging her to step up her efforts. Anything the hospital had gathered was expedited across the country. Dr. Kaplan involved specialists from around the world. The clock was running down day by day. It was time to bring others to the table. Neither woman was willing to let Booth go.

Max watched over the children while Brennan had spent all of her free time with Booth. He did little more besides sleep. Getting out of bed was too much of an effort. Even in the rare times he'd let Alyssa visit he had a difficult time mustering up any enthusiasm for her. Not that she cared. All she wanted was her father. Her temper tantrums grew steadily worse. She was beginning to become unruly, and hard to manage.

"Booth, you have to fight," Brennan whispered to him one afternoon while he slept. She'd had to place Alyssa kicking and screaming in her room for a time out. "None of us will fare well without you. But I don't think Alyssa will ever be able to move on without you."

The end rapidly approached. Booth began to have difficulty maintaining consciousness. Yet even in his fragile state he wouldn't permit anyone to admit him into the hospital, or any other type of care facility. If he was to die then he was doing on his own terms, anyone else's wishes be damned. Morphine kept him in a permanent stupor. Lower and lower he sunk into his own hell. The sun forgot how to shine. Birds forgot how to sing. Brennan was hardly holding onto sanity.

Then she received a phone call. A phone call she'd dreamed about, but never believed she would actually receive. Dr. Kaplan had created what she believed was a cure. "It's worked on his samples in the trials I've tried here in the lab. It might take some time to work through his body and rid it of the disease. But I think this is it, Dr. Brennan. I think this could be the one."

She'd agreed to overnight the potion. Brennan had been sitting on pins and needles until the postal carrier had at last arrived at her door. All along she'd kept Max abreast of the situation. He'd agreed to take over the children's care for however long was necessary, as he had been for all these months. Booth's life meant everything to them. Unknowing what the potion would do to him, she felt comfortable only being by his side. She wouldn't allow him to be left alone during such a critical time.

Her entire body shook as she took the stairs one by one. She opened the door to their bedroom where Booth lay in his fortress of solitude. His feeble body was swallowed up by mounds of blankets he'd pulled over himself in hopes of battling off the cold. He was pale and withdrawn in the shadows. The blinds covering their window had been drawn for months. In his depression he hadn't wanted to see the world outside; hadn't wanted to watch the lives being lived around him. His life hadn't existed beyond that bed; their bedroom.

She sat down at his side with a leg tucked underneath her rear. "Booth," she spoke softly directly into his ear. Tense seconds passed before his eyes fluttered. They stared blankly at the bed sheet under his body, seeming to comprehend that something had woken him but remained unsure as to what.

"Booth." She tried again. At last his gaze flickered up to hers. She raised the brown package she was still grasping tightly to show him. "This is from Dr. Kaplan. It's a cure, for you. It should put an end to the disease that's killing you, and rid your body of the tumors. It worked on her experiments in the lab. That was enough encouragement for me. However," she ran her hands over the sealing tape that covered the entire envelope. "I'm not sure what it will do to your body during the process. It still might take some time before you truly will feel like yourself again. And I suppose there's the possibility that it will do nothing at all." But she couldn't let herself believe that. This solution was their last shot.

Booth didn't respond in the slightest way. She couldn't discern whether he was making sense of her words at all. "I love you. I told you I would get you through this." Her fingers tore at the tape until the seal ripped open. "And I have every intention to do so."

She separated him from his covers. Delicately she rolled him over onto his back. He was limp and therefore easy to maneuver at her whim. His arm was pulled off to the side, away from his body. An alcohol swab bathed away any germs that might have been nesting in the crook of his arm. Since he'd lost so much weight she had no trouble locating a vein risen from his sinewy skin. Before turning away she rested a hand on his cheek. His eyes had closed once again. His breaths were shallow and weak.

The vial had been triple wrapped in bubble wrap for protection. Brennan required scissors in trying to get it open. She took a clean needle and syringe ordinarily used for his morphine injections, and drew out all of the liquid inside. Then she returned to Booth's side. She had absolutely no hesitation in inserting the needle into his vein. Gradually she fed the liquid into him bit by bit at a time. When it was over she withdrew, not just the syringe but her entire body. She held her breath and waited for a sign. A burst of energy. A movement. Something that signaled that her effort wasn't in vain; that the worst was over. The apocalypse had been brought to a stop.

He shuddered, and rolled back onto his stomach. Blindly his hands searched for his blankets to bundle himself up once again. Brennan sighed. She returned to him and tucked him in. "It's okay," she murmured. "Take your time, Booth. I'll be here waiting for you."

* * *

The days turned into weeks. Summer passed into autumn. Booth remained mute and bed ridden. Oblivious and comatose. Brennan patiently waited but felt her hope fizzling like a half lit sparkler. She reasoned that there should have been some inkling that the cure had done its job. Admitting defeat was painful. "I don't understand." She near cried to her father one afternoon. She'd spent all morning with Booth to no avail. "If it worked on his samples why wouldn't it perform the same function within his body?"

Max was making lunch for the children. He stirred a pot of macaroni and cheese. "You don't know that it isn't, Tempe. Did you expect an instant miracle?"

Like a child, yes she had. In her ideal world Booth would have leapt to life the moment the liquid siphoned through his blood stream. It was unrealistic, and the scientist in her should have been horrified for entertaining such a ludicrous thought. "I just thought by now there would be more of a change in his condition. I can't recall the last time he was lucid. Unless I want to call an ambulance it's not as though I can have him examined in the hospital. I am at a loss as to how to continue forward."

"I can understand. But honey, isn't it a good sign that he hasn't worsened? I mean, the potion must have done _something, _right? Otherwise the way he was declining… you and I both know he'd be dead by now."

"That isn't satisfying. I want more than this. He deserves more than this. I don't want to just halt the disease. I want to eradicate it. He deserves to be free of pain." She shook her head. "He's suffered for too long."

"He's strong," Max reminded her.

"He's been too strong for too long. It's time he be allowed to rest. It's time this ends." Brennan shut her eyes. She put her head in her hands. Her stomach revolted against her, threatening to reject the pathetic breakfast she'd fed it that morning. Had it not been for the baby she wouldn't have paid attention to such matters.

She heard the pitter patter of footsteps. Max addressed the visitor. "Lunch is going to be ready soon, baby."

"Daddy?" Alyssa questioned. Brennan grit her teeth. She didn't think her frayed emotions could handle one of her daughter's infamous temper tantrums.

"Not now. Maybe after lunch sweetheart, okay?" Max tried to appease her.

"No. Daddy." She insisted.

"Your daddy needs to rest. I know it isn't fair that he never gets to play with you anymore-"

"No!" She stomped her foot. "Daddy!"

"Alyssa, what are you trying to sa… oh my God."

Max's stunned voice brought Brennan at last raise her head. Taking his time stepping off the last stair onto the kitchen floor was Booth. "I'm here, Lissie." He smiled weakly. "You're too fast for me." He glanced from her to the two shell shocked adults in the room. "What?"

Brennan numbly ambled up onto her feet. She floated across the floor and took him into her arms. Uncontrollably she began to cry. Booth held her with all of his newfound strength. "It's all right."

"You're alive."

"Yeah." He smiled. "I'm alive."


	143. The Edge Of Glory

**Author's Note (part one)** - Lyrics used are "Harlow's Song" by Good Charlotte.

* * *

_When you close your eyes and go to sleep tonight_

_I'll be right outside your door_

_Dreams will come and they'll take you away_

_Let them bring you back to me_

**Six Months Later**

The night couldn't have been more beautiful. The evening was unnaturally warm. A full moon with a companion of dancing stars shone down onto an ocean as smooth as glass. Underneath that sky a couple laid spread out on an oversized blanket. As it was nearing midnight they'd long ago sent their children to bed. The night was theirs to celebrate however they pleased. And so, with baby monitors, alcohol (water for the mother to be), and a beach blanket they accepted the invitation the dark had so graciously extended to them.

Brennan had taken off her shoes and dipped her feet into the sand. The warmth from the sun felt heavenly against her cooled skin. Booth was laying flat out on his back. He held a glass of whiskey in his hand though he hadn't consumed more than a few sips from it. The alcohol was a treat, certainly not a necessity. It was a reward.

Earlier in the day he'd had a doctor's appointment. Six months had slipped by without the occurrence of another tumor. Not a single symptom had returned. Whatever potion Dr. Kaplan had concocted in her lab had been the real deal. Over time Booth's body had repaired itself. Daily he'd strengthened. His eating habits righted, and weight magically poured over his body. He'd joined a gym in town and worked hard to get himself back into shape. It'd made all the difference not just in his physical appearance, but his spirit as well. Having him so happy and active was a dream Brennan thought for a while she'd never see come true. But here he was, laying besides her fit and healthy.

_And tomorrow when you wake I'll be next to you_

_The protection from the day_

_When the tears fall down your face like morning dew_

_I'll be there to put a smile on your face_

They were in a jointed silence. Brennan had her head tilted up towards the stars when she heard Booth ask quietly, "what are you thinking about?"

Her lips curved into a genuine serene smile. "You. I was thinking how I am still in slight disbelief that we have made it here. You are healthy. For the first time in years you are completely healthy, Booth." She chortled at his bright smile upon hearing her words. "Years ago I never would have thought I'd end up having a life like this."

Booth sobered. "You never thought you'd be stuck taking care of me, and putting up with my issues for years. I don't blame you. It hasn't been fair to you."

"No, Booth. That's not at all what I meant. I have never for one moment regretted being by your side. But I can say that I never thought we'd end up married. I certainly never thought we'd have so many children together."

"Yeah. It seems like every time I get sick you end up pregnant." He snorted.

"That's because I'm ordinarily too focused on you to go to the proper lengths to prevent pregnancy. It's irrational, and uncharacteristic of me, I know. But you have changed me, Booth." She gazed down into his eyes. "I like to believe you have changed me for the better. I would not be as strong of a person as I am."

"I wouldn't be here without you. You know that." He told her seriously. "And I can never apologize to you enough, Bones. For everything. The addiction. The mental issues. Getting sick, getting better, and then getting sick again. I know you must have been exasperated being stuck in that cycle."

"That's life. It happens, unfortunately. It shouldn't. But it does. I'm just grateful you survived it. At this point in my life I just can't imagine going on without you."

He gently caressed her stomach. Tenderly he lowered his head to kiss it. "Me either. I can't wait until she's born."

"Christine." Brennan nodded. Once her doctor had revealed she was having a girl Booth had gone to work preparing the new nursery. He'd painted it in different hues of purple and magenta. The children had all helped out, whether Booth had wanted them to or not. He'd used that assistance and turned into one of the most thoughtful ideas Brennan had ever come across. She'd arrived home from shopping one day and could no longer fight her curiosity. She'd taken no more than a few steps into the nursery before she'd stopped in her tracks. All around the perimeter of the room were handprints. Booth's were obviously the largest, followed by Alyssa's and of course the twins. The design was beautiful. Her hormones had gotten the best of her. She'd teared up on the spot.

Booth had snuck up behind her. "You need to do it too," he whispered in her ear. "At least once."

She'd dipped her hands into a tray of red paint. Just besides a set of Booth's did she set her own. "It's perfect."

"Now it's complete." He'd agreed.

_I don't wanna live this life without you_

_I don't wanna spend the night without you_

_I don't wanna know what it's like_

_I can't dream without you_

Now it was her turn to confront him with the same question. "What's on your mind?"

He inhaled deeply, his chest gradually deflating as he exhaled slowly. "I'm thinking the same thing I've been thinking for days now. Where do we go from here? What do we do next?"

She scrunched up her nose in confusion. "I don't understand your meaning. From here we'll go back inside and eventually settle in for the evening."

"No," he chuckled. "I know that. I mean the overall picture. Where do we go from here? The FBI isn't going to take me back. Even if I was in top shape I'm too old to be an agent."

"You're not too old." She scoffed. "But your skeleton rivals one of an eighty year old man who spent a portion of his life as a stuntman."

He bit back a smile. "Yeah. But I can't imagine never working again. I'm not ready to retire. Or go on disability, or something. I thought about looking into the private sector. Working security for some high end business or protecting some national monument or something. But I don't think it'll be nearly as satisfying."

Brennan had to agree. After all he'd been through she couldn't see Booth taking to the slow paced life all too well. "Perhaps you could do consulting for the FBI. You wouldn't be an agent. But you could still be involved in cases."

"Yeah." He brightened. "That's an idea. Maybe I'll contact Hacker about it." The wheels in his head were turning. Brennan could tell just by watching him how hopeful he was that her suggestion would pan out. Then just as fast as its onset he turned somber once again. "I won't get to work with you, though. I want to be your partner."

"You _are _my partner, Booth. Always. It's just in a different venue now. Our partnership consists of marriage, and of being parents. That holds much more meaning than sharing a job. Anyone can do that. What we do is more prolific."

He raised his eyebrows. "That's pretty profound coming from you."

"I learned from the best." She kissed him.

_Let your fire burn bright for the world to see_

_You are the better part of me_

_When you hold my hand I swear that I believe_

_I'm living in my wildest dreams_

"What about you?" He countered. "You're not going to be happy just being a mother the rest of your life."

"I'll write novels."

She'd no more spoken the words before he was shaking his head. "C'mon, Bones. You'll go crazy just doing that. You thrive off of crime just as much as I do. You can't pretend to lead a normal, boring life any more than I can."

For a long moment she quieted, rolling his posed question over and over again through her mind. "I originally started my career working on ancient remains. I believe returning to that would be enough for me."

"Would you go back to the Jeffersonian?"

"No." She was quick to shoot the idea down. "I don't belong there anymore, Booth. It wouldn't feel right. That was _ours. _It should always remain ours. There's plenty of other institutions for me to work out of. Likely there's one here in the area that could use my services. Then we wouldn't have to leave our house."

"Good. I wouldn't want to move again." He stared off into the distance, watching the waves crash against the shore. "I've been wrong, Bones. All this time. I've gone back and forth with my thinking. But ultimately I've been wrong."

"What do you mean?"

He sat up. "Amanda didn't win. I thought she did, because of all the havoc she managed to create from the grave. She tried to end me. And lets face it. She almost did. But she didn't win. Everything she tried to pull on us only pushed you and I further together. Because of her we have this life. Because of her you had the strength to marry me. I don't know if you would have done that on your own. She couldn't destroy me. She couldn't destroy us. Together we're stronger than that." He stood up. "We made it, Bones. We won."

With his help she rose up to her feet to stand in front of him. "She couldn't possibly win, Booth. She died, while you're still alive. But I comprehend the metaphorical situation. You did win. We both did."

He tugged her into his arms for another kiss. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as though she could embrace him for all of eternity. Suddenly, she her muscles tensed. She completely froze. Booth held her out at arm's length to study her. "Bones?"

"My water just broke."

* * *

**Author's note (part two)** - The next chapter will likely be my last. This story has been a product of my blood, sweat, and tears for almost three years now. All along the way I've had criticisms that I have been able to deal with. But lately I have just had enough of the backlash. It has gotten to the point in which I don't even want to read my reviews anymore. So while I know a large majority of my audience is still enjoying this story I feel its time to quit for my own sanity. I know the second half of this story has seemed redundant. I could apologize. I could explain why I wrote what I did; defend my story that I still stand by. But quite frankly, I don't want to. I shouldn't have to. I couldn't be more proud of this story. This is definitely one of the best I've ever written and I guess I'm sorry that a certain portion of readers feel that I have ruined it. But to those who have enjoyed it, who have left me positive reviews, sent me encouraging PMs, and have become my friends along the way, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I dedicate this story to you guys. Thank you.


	144. The End

_It's funny how fast your life can change; how one single event can set off a domino effect. How that one stupid little tile colliding into another one can set off a chain of destruction. Years ago I never thought about the consequences of my job. Not really. Plenty of times throughout my life I've stared down death. I've faced my immortality. I lived through having an alcoholic father who liked to use me as his punching bag. I survived the Army life, taking lives and nearly losing my own to enemy capture, torture, and gun fire. I've jumped out of airplanes. I've been blown up. Well, you get the gist. The point is I never really thought about the day to day. Nothing would come along my way that I couldn't handle. I was solid in my life. I was a father to the greatest son. Through the bureau I was partnered with a forensic anthropologist. A brilliant forensic anthropologist with whom I felt I could take on the world. No criminal could get by us. I was the heart. She was the brains. Yet she was so much more than that. She was beautiful, and I loved her but never felt confident enough to show her. I was afraid crossing that line would push her away, and I'd never get her back. Bones was emotionally fragile, I'd come to tell myself. I wouldn't be the one to break her. If only I'd known._

_That night… _the _night, I had no idea what was about to happen to me. I'd never in a million years imagined that I could be overpowered by such a small woman. But evil knows no gender, or strength. The alcohol I'd been drinking earlier in the night dulled my reflexes, sure. But she never should have been able to strong arm me. Maybe if she hadn't of had the stun gun I would have gotten away. I'd like to think so, but I don't know. I guess I never will. One way or another she was determined to get me. If it hadn't of been there that night, it would have been somewhere else. For some reason I was meant to go through this. That's the only thing I can figure._

_I don't know how I survived that year of torture. It's nothing I care to think about anymore. I can't. The scars are forever going to be on my mind and body. A bump in the night will never be just a bump again. A simple case of the sniffles will always be a reason for me to run to the doctor. That piece of mind is something I'll never get back, no matter how much time passes. I'll never be "sane," or "sound" or "normal." But I've learned there's more to life than that._

_These thoughts keep running through my mind as I stand outside the observation window on the maternity ward inside the hospital. Behind a sheet of glass in front of me are lots of cribs, each filled with a new life screaming for attention. My brand new daughter isn't in there. She's back in her room with Bones, where I'll be returning shortly. I just needed a minute to myself. Too many people in a small confined space can still be too much for me sometimes._

"_Daddy?" I hear a tiny voice say next to me. I can't help but to smile. "Yes, Lissie?"_

"_Up-ah."_

_I lift her up into my arms and hold her close. "Where's Gramps? Why aren't you with him?"_

"_With momma." She cuddles close to me, knowing full well she'll melt my heart and escape being in trouble for wandering off. Yeah. She's a daddy's girl, and she's got me wrapped around her finger. I choose to let the issue go. "Did you see your new baby sister?"_

_She nods, but gives me no other input. She isn't impressed. I chuckle. Sugar and spice and everything nice. That's my little Lissie. "Should we go see her again?"_

_She latches her arms around my neck, and I feel her shake her head in agreement. Together we walk down the corridor back towards the room where Bones lay in bed surrounded by friends and family. When we waltz in Angela is cradling Christine with Hodgins huddled close. Max in sitting in a chair next to Bones' bed. Cam is off to the side, and she gives me a look that makes me feel like she's staring into my soul. She knows where I've been. She knows what I'm thinking. I give her a curt acknowledgement._

"_So how many more do you plan on having?" Angela asks me with a teasing smile. I sigh, which for some reason strikes the group as being funny. "I think we're done for a while," I add. I wink at Bones, and she beams back at me. She's sweaty and exhausted, appearing exactly how a woman who just spent hours in labor delivering a baby should. I still think she's the most beautiful woman I've ever laid my eyes on._

"_She's precious. Absolutely perfect." Cam tells me. _

"_I know." I smile shyly._

"_Where'd you go?"_

"_Needed a minute."_

"_You all right?"_

_I shrug. "Got a little overwhelmed. I'm all right now."_

_Cam doesn't believe me. I can see the disbelief in her eyes. "We should all get going anyway and let Dr. Brennan rest."_

_The group disperses. I place Alyssa back down on the ground. She has to leave to go home with Max. Her big eyes take me in with sadness. I kneel down to her level. "I'll be home later tonight for a while, okay? We'll read a story."_

"_But I might be sleeping!" She exclaims._

"_I'll wake you up," I promise against my better judgment. This pacifies her. She hugs me, and I kiss the top of her head. Then I let them go. I wave goodbye to everyone. Then I slide into bed next to Bones and Christine. I kiss her forehead just underneath her pink beanie, then kiss Bones on the lips. "You're amazing."_

_She lays her head down on my shoulder. Nothing more needs to be said. I know she feels all that I'm not saying. Years ago if someone told me we'd be here, married and having our fourth child, I would have blown them off. Four years ago after the abduction I would have laughed in their face. Bones saved my life. I know I wouldn't be here if not for her. She never gave up on me. Not for a moment, even when I'd given up on myself. There's nothing I could say that would ever make her understand what she means to me. How grateful I am for everything she's done for me. I know I'll never be able to repay her for her love and support. But that won't stop me from trying._

"_What are you thinking?" She asks me quietly. "You've been somber for quite some time now. Are you feeling all right?"_

"_I'm okay." I reassure her immediately. And I am. "Just thinking about a lot of stuff. Thinking 'bout us. Thinking about how fortunate I am."_

_Amanda tried to dehumanize me. She tried to strip me down to the core and destroy what was left. And honestly? She was almost successful. But out of all that hate and all that misery I got something great. I got a family. I built back a life I thought I had lost. It's not the same life. It will never be. But again, I'm all right with that. Life is meant to change. Moments are fleeting. I don't have a plan for the future yet. But I will. I know I will. Because of my family I know I can do anything. They give me the strength to strive for more._

_She kisses me, and it's easy for me to determine how she's fighting herself to stay awake. "Sleep," I urge her. Gently I ease Christine out of her arms and into my own. "You need it, Bones."_

"_You aren't leaving, are you?"_

_I glance from her down to my daughter. "No." I promise. "Never again."_

_The end_

* * *

I've decided that as far as goes, the story ends here. However, since numerous readers still showed intense interest I have decided to create a Live Journal account where I will continue this as a series of short stories. You can find it at - strongenough-pm {dot} livejournal {dot} com

If anyone has any questions (since that address looks weird - I couldn't get it to post) feel free to PM me and I will do my best to assist in any way that I can.

I know I've said this many times, but I have to get one last thank you in to all of you. This story would not be possible without your support.

All my love,

~PM


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